Beautiful Chaos
by TheOneWhoRulesThemAll
Summary: 'I once knew a girl who loved things most people shun. Every man she ever loved was terrible to her, terrible I tell you. But there was something about them that intrigued her - she liked broken things, broken people. To her, if there was nothing to fix there was nothing to love' - Christopher Poindexter. Light/OC
1. Prologue

TOWRTA: This story was originally posted as romance Light/OC. Now there are still plenty of elements of this present in the story, but over the course of a year it's grown into something much more rooted in family and overcoming challenges heaped upon your shoulders. I hope you enjoy. I will be slowly editing each chapter.

Edited 2/09/16

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Prologue

Morning finally came to the room on the east side of the hallway. Sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains, sending dust particles dancing in the air like flecks of gold. A ray sliced through the stack of paper on the desk. The wardrobe was slightly open, showing rows of blazers and shirts and trousers, all neatly pressed. The carpet was clean, the desk held the bare necessities, and the bedside table boasted a single book with a folded letter on top. One blemish distorted the landscape of perfection – a large bed with rumpled sheets, bunched into a mound.

Beneath was a young, bronze haired man whose eyes feverishly flickered under their lids. In his dreams there weren't spartan rooms filled with light.

Large black eyes laughed mockingly at the dreamer, walls dripped dark red liquid, and screams reverberated through a dreary warehouse by the ocean. His constant companion was a single notebook, two words on its cover, white lettering on black. He never could not see what those words were. They were always out of focus, as though a film covered his eyes. The letters blurred and writhed, taunting the dreamer's inability to read them. No matter how the dreamer lunged for the notebook, it always stayed just out of reach, never to be touched by his hands.

With a jerk, Light Yagami awoke. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead and pushed back the covers of the bed. The same dream again. Always the same dream every time he closed his eyes. Sometimes there was variety – the eyes would be red instead of black or a hand would be holding the notebook – but the foundation of the mocking eyes and the fuzzy white letters never changed. If only he knew what it meant.

 _I need to talk to Minerva_ , he thought with a sigh. Minerva. Minerva, Minerva. Everything would always circle back to Minerva. Then again, better Minerva than someone unapproachable like L who took everything Light said with a pinch of salt.

Light sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. As he blinked in the sunlight that felt the need to fall directly across his face, his brow furrowed. His bedside table, previously empty the night before, was now occupied by a thick book. He picked up the letter on top of the red hardcover. In an instant his frown became a rarely seen expression of delight. Taking in the simple 'Light' written in Minerva's beautiful script, he turned the letter over and carefully unfolded it.

* * *

 _Light,_

 _See, I told you I would finish this eventually. Now you can stop giving me those looks across the dining table. Whether you think you are being subtle or not, the others have noticed. Even L mentioned it to me when he came last week, in his own blunt way that is about as graceful as a boulder hurtling down a cliff_

 _I have written down everything that happened from the time we met until we arrived here. This should explain why you can't remember certain conversations or why you have no idea what made you walk into the middle of the school courtyard on the twenty-eighth of November 2003, It won't have things that happened while you were alone, but I have been assured that it will be enough to jog your memory._

 _I only hope that Ryuk will keep his promise to me. Otherwise I have wasted hundreds of apples on an ungrateful roof for nothing._

 _Also, that promise I made holds true now. Be careful, Light. Don't go down a rabbit hole I'll be forced to dray you out of._

 _Once you have read the book and thought things through, come find me. You will have some things to ask, of that I have no doubts._

 _I didn't know where to start so I decided the beginning was most appropriate, on the day we met. Everything important iws written here, including some of the things I never told you. I thought that I might as well get everything out while I was at it._

 _I shall see you soon._

 _Sincerely yours_

 _Minerva Valeria (V) Catearro_

* * *

TOWRTA: Next chapter you meet Minerva. Leave a comment if there's anything you'd like to tell me. I love reader-author conversations. Fanfiction is a great place to make friends with people you would otherwise never talk to.

Yours Truly and God Bless

TOWRTA


	2. Kettle

TOWRTA: What is this? Less than 24 hours between updates? Don't expect this at all, it's only happening because I have time at the moment to write and this chapter was already written. Soon I may fall into a weekly or bi-weekly rhythm. We'll just have to see.

* * *

Chapter One

"Well, Catearro-san, I must say that yours and your brother's marks on our entrance exam were exemplary. However, there is the problem of your previous education. We see you left it blank," said the principal of Daikoku Academy. On his desk were the applications of the two teenagers seated in front of him, my brother's and mine. I smiled politely and gestured to the envelope I had placed on the table.

"Everything you need to know is in that envelope. My teacher assured me that you would understand." The principal, Kurosaki Asashi by the name plate on his large desk, frowned slightly and opened the envelope. I could see his eyes skimming the contents as his expression became surprised. Some parts he reread multiple times before he moved on, his eyes widening to comical sizes. Once he reached the bottom and had gone over the signature four times, he laid the letter face down on the desk and flicked his eyes between me and my brother.

"So, can we stay?" I asked.

The principal nodded his head quickly and pulled out two more bits of paper from his desk.

"Here are your class schedules and maps. Teachers will assign people to show you around if you want them to. Catearro-san," he turned to my brother, "your homeroom is class 1-A in the junior section of the school. Mayuki-san will show you where to go." He nodded to the door where a young girl stood. She came through the office door and bowed politely. My brother nodded his blonde head in reply and thanked the principal as monotonously as possible while still sounding polite. I stood up at the same time as him and wrapped him in a tight hug, his recent growth spurt causing his head to knock my nose.

"I will meet you outside the junior gate. See you at the end of school," I said. He squeezed me back in return and left the office, trailing behind the perky looking Mayuki.

As soon as I sat down the principal spoke in a hushed tone.

"Catearro-san, I am certain you know how unorthodox it is to have a senior coming here only four months until graduation. If it wasn't for your exceptional scores I wouldn't have even considered letting you in. Of course your brother would have been accepted, but at your age I can't fathom why you decided to come," he spoke hurriedly, as though he was telling me some grave secret that no one else was supposed to hear. I smiled my head when replying.

"Principal Kurosaki, the reason I came to this school was because my previous teacher recommended it to me and told me that she would help my brother and I get in. The other reason is because if I want to apply to any universities, this Academy would help immensely in my applications for high achieving facilities. Also, I wanted to look after my brother. He is only thirteen after all," I explained. The principal nodded in understanding and smiled at me.

"Ah, I see now. Well, it is wonderful to be welcoming someone so talented into our school. I look forward to your time with us, no matter how short it may be. I trust you can find your own way to your classroom? Homeroom is about to start." He dismissed me with an easy grin that I returned with no reservations.

 _No welcoming party for me, huh? Guess you weren't expecting me to stay past the introductory meeting,_ I thought wryly without letting it show on my face.

"Of course, principal. I will see you at the graduation ceremony." With that I grabbed my bag, bowed respectfully, and left while shrugging my leather jacket on. I didn't bother looking back. Instead, I strode through the corridors, going over the conversation that I could recall with extreme clarity. Odd; my photographic memory was something that hadn't kicked in for a long time.

However, instead of puzzling over the strangeness of my sudden good memory, I stopped outside the door to my classroom and knocked. The teacher flicked his gaze over and widened his eyes. With a quick nod, he began the lengthy process of quietening a classroom of thirty-two seventeen and eighteen year olds. While waiting, I leant on the doorframe.

Class A-3. It was totally and utterly efficient. From my position just outside the door, pretending to be bored while looking through the door window out the corner of my eye, I could see a large, almost wall-sized blackboard on the wall to the right of the door and a huge floor to ceiling window to the left of the blackboard. All the desks were in neat rows with equally neat teenagers in various groups, an especially large one next to the window. Every part of the room, from the bookshelves under the blackboard to the bags slung over the backs of chairs to the light fittings lining the ceiling, all of it was perfectly utilitarian. Just what one would expect from someone such as Kurosaki Asashi.

The class finally settled into their seats but the talking didn't stop. With a head shake of defeat, the teacher went over to the door and opened it. I held up a hand as he tried to apologise. He smiled wanly and stepped aside to let me through.

"Class, we have a new addition to our group. I would like to introduce our newest exchange student of Daikoku Private Academy." The chatter of the bored classroom shuddered to a stop. Thirty teenage heads turned around to see what the teacher was talking about and the murmuring started up again, more subdued than before. It was amusing knowing that they were discussing me. By lunch there would probably be a rumour that I was a runaway.

"Catearro-san, would you like to introduce yourself?" I blinked. The teacher was looking at me expectantly.

"Oh, of course. Do you mind if I first introduce myself in English as well as Japanese? It would be more comfortable for me," I asked.

"Certainly, it would be good for my students."

"Thank you, sir. Well, I shall introduce myself in English first and then Japanese." I turned and faced the curious students.

"Yo." Already people were looking confused. "My name is Minerva Catearro, and I prefer to be referred to as just Minerva, not Catearro-san. Seriously, it makes me feel old. I don't really feel inclined to tell you that much about my home life because it's pretty boring." Lies. "I have a younger brother named Quinn who turned thirteen in September, whereas I am eighteen. My birthday is on the twenty-eighth of June. Oh, and before people start asking me why I moved to Japan, and where I have travelled I will state that those things are a personal matter. No disrespect but we do not know each other." I ended with a tone that held a small threat; hardly noticeable but there all the same. But judging from the looks on their faces – the ones who had understood the meaning of yo, anyway – they were suitably warned.

I switched to Japanese and started again. By the time I was finished the entire class seemed to be itching to start talking again.

"Thank you, Ca – Minerva-san." The teacher looked about the classroom. "Hmm, ah! You can sit in the seat in front of Yagami-san, there." He gestured to the desk where the large group had been situated before. Now, without the crowd, I could see who had been at the centre of it all. I was taken aback by what I saw.

Yagami, as the teacher had called him, was quite different. It wasn't that he was exuding an aura of a delinquent or something obvious like that. He presented himself as an attractive young man who valued his appearance, from his meticulously neat uniform – I had decided to leave my uniform at home in case I really was unwelcome at Daikoku; my brown leather jacket, jeans and t-shirt were polite enough for school if I was accepted, anyway – to his brilliant white teeth.

His expression was somewhere between calculating appraisal and agonising politeness under the guise of boyish charm. It was an interesting blend, though it was apparent that the scrutiny in his gaze was not supposed to be seen, not by me at least; it was hidden so well beneath his dazzlingly grin that I could barely make it out. It seemed that my near obsessive habit of drawing or painting anything around me, including human faces, was helpful in more than one way.

But those things hadn't surprised me. It was the peculiar colour of his hair that had drawn my focus.

His hair was the colour of bronze, or slightly dulled copper. It fell about his face into fashionably messy layers, the back of which reached the nape of his neck. I found myself idly wondering how he could see through the untidy fringe that was swept to his left side yet still managed to get in his eyes.

The strange thing was it didn't seem to have been dyed. His hair was naturally the colour of a newly waxed kettle from the 17th century. Was it genetic or some strange scientific anomaly?

Ridding myself of that weird train of thought and harshly suppressing the blush that was creeping onto my cheeks as I realised I had been staring, I turned to the teacher, whose name I needed to learn. "Thank you, sir." I inclined my head slightly; not a bow but the teacher understood my sincerity. I left the comfort of the front of the room and went to sit in front of the Yagami boy.

"Now class, roll call," the teacher called out. In an effort to remember my classmates' names, I watched for each person who answered. Knowing myself as I did, I would probably end up calling the boy behind me 'Kettle Head' constantly before the day was out if I didn't get his name soon.

By the time the roll had been called I was very pleased that my photographic memory had decided to kick in when it did, even if I had no idea why. If it hadn't I would have been hard pressed to remember any of the names.

Fukusaku Kinnojo sat at the back of the class with his stationary in parallel lines on his desk. Hitori Renzo was a rambunctious loudmouth with non-regulation piercings. Itoh Ayako was a small girl who sat on the other side of the aisle. Kimio Ruriko had long, dead-straight hair. Niijima Hisa was surreptitiously chewing gum behind her English book. Shibasaki Yukinaga sat in front of me with his shoulders nearly acting as earmuffs.

And, at the very end of the list, Kettle Head's real name was Yagami Light. Light; what a very fitting name for the way his hair glowed, but it did not fit the expression I could see in the reflection of the window. He looked bored, his eyes alert but slightly glazed as one would expect from an seventeen year old on a Friday morning. It was almost disappointingly normal, and, whether it was fortunate or unfortunate I will never know, I began to watch him as the day progressed, eager to see if that hint of judgement would come back to life, if only to have something better to do than listen to explanations of theories I had already learnt.

Throughout my first class, Maths, I was disappointed. He answered every question perfectly as someone of his obvious intelligence should and when talked to in class he was the perfect gentleman. He gave no outward signs of anything other than boredom and occasional interest when he was called upon. There were no strange inflections in his voice or anything odd with his posture. The feeling he gave me was rigid, hard, like a brittle stone wall that would break apart if you hit it hard enough. He was too composed to be like that naturally.

Just when I was about to give up on my 'Light Watching', as I had dubbed it, the teacher called on me in the last quarter of class.

"Minerva-san." He looked uncomfortable saying my first name. "It seems you understand this material already, so would you like to have Yagami-san explain our course outline to you for the remainder of the class? You two could use the courtyard if necessary." Behind me Light became even more rigid. His eyes flickered over to the reflection and saw me looking at him. His expression, which had become almost stormy, smoothed once more, turning into a blank mask of boredom and acceptance.

"Thank you, sir." I nodded my consent. I put the paper and stationary I had taken out back into my shoulder bag and stood up, fixing my jacket. Light stood up as well and was hooking the strap of my bag over his own shoulder before I was fully turned.

"Off you go then," said the teacher with a smile.

"Do you have everything you need, Minerva-san?" In an instant I could feel over a dozen female glares burn into my head at Light's use of my first name. Geez, if I knew that people would get so worked up about someone like him addressing me simply by my first name I never would have said anything.

"I believe so. I can carry my own bag though, Light." I held out my hand for my bag, hardly suppressing a wince as the intensity of the glares doubled. Well, excuse me for not assimilating to Japanese culture so quickly.

"Don't worry about it, it's the least I can do," he said simply, his voice amiable. It was an amazing turnaround when he trained his eyes on me, neither holding a hint of boredom. I was starting to think that only seeing him through a window was better than this. The glares weren't helping either.

Light gestured for me to follow him out the door. As I did so I could feel the withering looks follow my every move.

Light's steps were long and uniform, as though he had trained himself to a point where every step was the same as the previous one, no deviation in the length or speed whatsoever.

We reached the end of the corridor and trailed down a staircase to the courtyard. Light held the door open for me at the bottom. I wandered through, throwing him a thank you as I brushed past. His response was an easy smile.

"You're welcome." He let the door swing shut and led me over to one of the few benches on the edge of the green lawn.

"So," he began as we sat down. "Do you mind if I could see your schedule? If we have the same elective I will be able to explain things in more depth." I handed over the small piece of paper wordlessly. As he read over it I examined his expression once more. The bored expression wasn't there anymore, to my surprise, but now it was one of mild interest. Something tickled the back of my mind as his eyes roved the paper. There was a colour that described this boy perfectly.

Beige. As beige as the uniform he was clothed in.

"Is there something on my face, Minerva-san?" he asked, a small amount of amusement colouring his voice. I blinked. His eyes were trained on mine as though they had been that way for quite a while. Damn, I had been caught staring again.

"Unless you count your hair, which I think falls like that naturally, there is nothing," I replied easily. "And please, just Minerva, Yagami-san. Using –san makes me feel homesick." His lips quirked and he handed back my schedule.

"Only if you call me Light," he countered. I blinked in surprise, then gave a lopsided smile. Someone flirting with me was completely new. "We have all the same core subjects, but our electives are different, unfortunately. I study law whereas you study art. I don't know much about art, I must say." He threw me a bashful smile. _Liar_ , I thought instantly, _you're an information sponge._

"In Maths we have been learning about the old teachings of various philosophers . . ." I tuned his words out as he spoke; only listening to his tone. It was smooth, velvety, not exactly warm but not cold either.

 _If only that was possible to paint._ The thought floated into my mind unbidden. I paused for a moment, rerunning what I had just thought.

To paint a voice. Interesting. Maybe I could use his voice as a base line. But then I would have to get him to talk to me more and let me hear the different nuances in his tone. I wonder . . .

 _Wait, isn't he talking to me now?_

"Minerva?" Light's voice interrupted my thoughts, again, with an even more amused voice. My eyes snapped open. To my astonishment I must have closed them while thinking, though he probably thought I was some oddity who found listening to him speak soothing. Not lies exactly but he didn't need to know that.

"Sorry, I had a late night." I quickly ran through what he had been saying, silently thanking my good memory, and brought up the most likely piece of information that would be relevant to what he had said.

"With the art club, do they have special tutoring programmes? I haven't had an actual art teacher before," I tried. Light looked at me oddly but replied all the same.

"There is a class every lunch run by your art teacher, Hisashi-sensei. I have met her a few times and she seems to be a very open woman. I don't know whether the tutoring exams run beyond that, though you could ask at lunch." He checked his watch, "though you will have to wait another hour because next period is about to start."

He stood and grabbed my bag once more. I sighed and stood up next to him. He gave me a stunning smile and, adjusting his grip on his bag as well as mine, with a jerk of his head we set off towards the door that would take us back to the classroom.

I followed in a sort of daze, not really paying attention to anything yet letting everything soak in at once; the light in the hallway, the different corridors that branched off and the curious students who glanced at us through the windows as we walked past the classrooms. But my main point of focus was on the way Light was somehow so sure of himself even when presented with a new girl of a different culture and completely different looks. As far as I had seen there were no students in Daikoku Academy who weren't Japanese and therefore someone of my background coming in would have to be a novelty; the way people had stared during first period was proof enough. But the way Light had just taken it in and seemingly not minded showed either a remarkable ability to adapt, very good people skills or a rather indifferent personality. In my opinion it was definitely not the latter. He was far too . . . alert for that.

We soon reached the classroom, just as the teacher was coming out. He smiled at us brightly and went on his way through the corridor. Light held the door open again and I walked in. As soon as I crossed the threshold every single pair of eyes in the room turned to stare. I froze in place, completely unsure as to what to do. Only once in my life had I had such a thing happen to me and that had not gone well.

"Minerva?" asked Light, coming up behind me. Almost instantaneously the stares turned to glares, whether they were thrown over my shoulder at Light or at me. I noticed that there was a pretty huge gender difference in each action.

"Oh, don't worry," I replied, shaking my head. I walked towards my chair and sat down. Light stopped at my desk and handed me my bag. I thanked him and quickly dug through it, looking for something to distract me from the stares and the growing whispers.

 _'_ _Good, here it is.'_ Relieved, I pulled out my history notebook and turned to the first page. Pulling out the pencil and eraser I kept in the pocket of my bag, I began to draw along the right edge, letting the worries of being the centre of attention drift away. When the teacher came in I kept an open ear, glancing up occasionally, committing what she had written on the board to memory, and did the same during social studies straight after, but otherwise simply drew.

By the end of the class I had a full flip art of Light's head turning into a kettle throughout my history book. If he saw it he probably wouldn't be impressed but there wasn't any likelihood of him reading my history book at any time.

"Minerva." I glanced up to see Light standing next to my desk, far enough away not to be in personal space but close enough for our conversation to be intimate. I wondered briefly on it but disregarded the thought in favour of actually talking to him.

"Yes?" I said, noticing the students putting their books away in the slots under their desks and following suit.

"I was wondering whether you would like a tour during lunch. I could answer any questions you have about the school," he said pleasantly. I mulled over that for a moment, not seeing any harm except to encourage those irritating glares. However, from the way the other students were staring at me, perhaps getting away would be the best option.

"That would be great. Thanks for offering." Light seemed pleased and when I stood up, bag in hand, he grabbed the shoulder strap and swung it onto his shoulder once more. I had a feeling that this was going to become a habit.

The tour lasted the entire hour-long lunch slot and we ended up eating while we walked just to cover it all. Daikoku Academy, as it turned out, was not an old, traditional school like many others in the area. It was one of the newer, Westernised institutions that were trying to incorporate both Japanese society and the ever expanding Western influence. Light didn't say his opinion on the subject blatantly but I got the feeling that he enjoyed being able to be a part of two different cultures. I decided that he did indeed have excellent social skills and adaptability.

As we were walking down the third year corridor, the door to C-3 slid open.

"Yagami!" It was Nakamura Kuroda, one of our classmates who sat on the opposite side of the classroom to me and wore his tie slightly loose. Light waved and headed in his direction, nodding at me to follow. I did so without protest, interested as to how Light interacted with people he knew.

"Everyone wants to meet the exchange student," Kuroda said excitedly, leading Light and I into the room. We walked over to a group of both boys and girls. They turned to look at us eagerly, the girls fighting between looking at Light and me. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but stopped when Light touched my lower back lightly. Something jolted up my spine.

"May I introduce to you Catearro Minerva. Minerva, this is everyone," he said. He went on to introduce each one of them by name but I could hardly pay attention because his hand was still on my back, slowly putting on more pressure as he talked. I didn't think he actually knew he was doing it.

"Hi," I said. They all started talking at once, Kuroda one of the loudest. Their crowding triggered an old phobia I hadn't dealt with for a long time. Unconsciously, I leant into Light's side, trying to avoid their closing circle.

Light's hand moved so it was resting on my waist, drawing me into his side. I glanced up at him but he didn't look back. He just continued to smile and laugh good naturedly with his friends, acting as though he wasn't embracing a near total stranger, no matter how odd it was in Japanese culture. So, not wanting to draw attention to myself, I did the same.

The bell rang seven minutes later and we said goodbye to the group, Kuroda accompanying us to A-3. He talked incessantly, Light engaging in banter with him, light hearted and shallow. They discussed Christmas presents, of all things, and what the school was planning for the Christmas festival this year. Apparently it was an annual occurrence.

I said a polite goodbye to Kuroda before following Light to our seats. He handed back my bag and waited until I'd sat down before bowing and taking his seat. The teacher arrived only seconds after us and briskly announced that she hoped I'd read through the required reading so far for Japanese and if not I should get started as soon as possible. I had done the reading but the class still challenged me. I had been speaking Japanese for years but my mind tended towards European languages as opposed to Oriental.

With all my concentration on the class, taking notes and automatically recalling all the information I'd learnt to make sure my photographic memory hadn't decided to switch off, I could hardly spare a thought for the bronze-haired boy behind me. My lower back still tingled though.

We moved to the science laboratories in the south building, third floor, for the next period, Light sidling up to me on my left and Kuroda appearing at my right. Walking between the two with Light holding my bag and Kuroda keeping up a constant stream of conversation about how different Canada must be to Japan and complaining over the fact that he couldn't dye his hair blonde because of the school rules, it was like having two overprotective brothers.

Both of them volunteered to help me during the class. It was a chemistry practical that Light was, of course, incredibly adept at and between him and Kuroda the experiment was finished and recorded by the first half of the class.

That just left the second half for Kuroda to interrogate me.

"So, Minerva-san," Kuroda had no qualms about using my first name. "How are you enjoying hanging out with Yagami?"

"What? Oh, it's been fun," I said, glancing awkwardly at the boy in question. He smiled briefly and carried on cleaning out the beakers we'd used.

"Just great? You know he's the most popular guy in the school, right? Most girls would saw off their right arm to spend a day with him."

"Don't be jealous, Nakamura. Kimio has been looking at you a lot lately," Light spoke up.

"Really? Because I've always thought she has a thing for me but whenever I talk to her she pretends she has no idea who I am." And off he went, relaying all the different signs Kimio, the girl with dead-straight hair, had given him that showed how attracted to him she was. I pillowed my head in my arms on the table, listening to him with an amused smile. He was the most open guy I had ever met in my life.

Light's sudden cough brought my attention to him. Kuroda didn't notice, as he had taken to staring at him crush as though she was the only thing in the world.

"Yes?" I asked, sitting up straight. Light leaned against the other side of the lab table, his hands casually in his pockets.

"I just wanted to make sure you remember the way to the art block," he said. I resisted the urge to bring my map out and wave it in his face.

"I remember. Down the hall, ground floor, opposite side of the lawn from the building our homeroom is in, right?"

"That's the one." The bell ringed and everyone collected their gear. Kuroda bade us a hasty goodbye and hurried after Kimio, who flipped her hair to one side just as I noticed a blush rising to her cheeks. This time Light let me place my bag on my shoulder and stayed by my side as we exited the classroom.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow? It's a half-day, right?" I said, a part of me believing he would ignore me in favour of his friends tomorrow. There was only so much attention a popular guy like him could give one girl before his reputation became at stake.

"Of course. I look forward to seeing you then, Minerva." He bowed and gave me that dazzlingly smile that was nearly as affecting as his touch.

"And to you, Light." I bowed back and turned away to go to my art class. I found myself revising the colour that suited him most. Instead of beige, he now seemed like more of a red. A dark, velvety, seductive red that almost reminded me of blood.

If only I could have seen the omen then for what it was.

* * *

The arts building contained the music classrooms on the top level, the art classes on the second floor and the drama rooms at ground level with a connecting corridor to the assembly hall. The art rooms were the same as my homeroom – floor to ceiling windows facing the courtyard and a large blackboard but instead of single desks there were clean wooden tables in a square horseshoe facing the blackboard.

I joined the flow of the crowd, drawing curious looks as a tall European girl out of uniform in a Japanese school was wont to do. Just as my hands were turning clammy from all the attention, I found myself surrounded by two of the girls from Kuroda's group.

"Minerva-san! How are you enjoying Daikoku Academy?" said Mikoto, a very pretty gossip who had a taste for matchmaking.

"It's very . . . different. But I am liking it so far," I replied.

"What she really means to ask is whether you like Light," Nozomi. From what I'd seen of her, she was a studious girl who seemed to be the only one who could put up with Mikoto's constant meddling.

"Oh," I said. Well, that was blunt. "He's great."

"Great? Ouch, that's harsh," Mikoto muttered.

"Don't let him hear you saying that. He'll pursue you," said Nozomi.

"What?"

"Nozomi!" Mikoto slapped Nozomi on the arm. She sighed and rolled her eyes before looking at me and explained. "Just ignore her. Anyway, so what do you _really_ think of him? He's more than great, right?" She nudged me with her shoulder.

"He's . . . he has a great smile," I offered.

"And?"

"He's fun to talk to?"

" _And_?"

"Fine. He is extremely good looking," I acquiesced. Mikoto grinned.

"I knew it! Told you she'd fall for him." She said to Nozomi.

"I never said she wouldn't," Nozomi replied, "but at least she doesn't throw herself at him like you do."

"I do not! And didn't you see the way she leant against him during lunch?"

"Don't forget that he put his arm around her waist."

"And when they first walked in he had his hand on her back! How long do you think it will take to make it official?"

"Two weeks, tops."

It was an incredibly disturbing situation having two girls discussing how I was going to end up dating some guy I had just met that day and completely ignoring the fact that I was walking between them and could hear every word they said. It was as though they had forgotten I was even there.

Unfortunately, we reached the classroom before I could speak up and the two girls walked to the shelves under the blackboard that held all the students' art gear, waving me goodbye.

"Catearro-san!" A young woman in her late twenties at the most came up to me, beaming. She was more than a head shorter than me but her grin made up for it and beyond.

"I prefer Minerva," I said.

"Oh, of course, I heard from your homeroom teacher." I waited for her to tell me his name but it never came. "I am your art teacher."

"Hisashi-sensei?"

"That's me. So, do you have your own things or do we need to supply?"

"I have everything I need so don't worry."

"Great! Today we are working on projects given two weeks ago so feel free to ask some of the students what they're doing and start your own. The premise of it is memories. You can take a seat over there by the window; one of our students left earlier this year to study overseas so there has been a spot open for a while."

"Thank you, Hisashi-sensei." I bowed courteously and went over to the seat. Each seat had its own table, big enough for two people. The class of fifteen was hard at work; some of them talking between themselves quietly but most were diligently painting, drawing or examining their work.

I sat down and took out my art supplies out of my bag which had become consistently lighter as the day went by. Flipping to the first blank page, which was in the middle of the art pad, I cupped my chin in the palm of my hand and rested my elbow on the table, staring at the page. Memories. What memory could I draw that would be appropriate for a classroom?

It took several minutes of thinking before I just sighed, took out a pencil, and began to draw. I had no plan, no idea, no picture; I just let my hand work as it wanted to, as I had done before on many occasions. It was a way of drawing that my previous teacher had both praised and scolded me for.

Within half an hour the drawing was finished, rough and sketchy. Before hesitation could set in, I pulled out my oil paints, palette and paintbrushes and sunk back into a state of mindless work. Hisashi-sensei walked over on more than one occasion and I could positively feel the grin spreading over her face each time, but I paid no attention to her in favour of completing the task I'd set myself. To my good fortune, neither Mikoto nor Nozomi were anywhere near me to see what was quickly becoming what I feared it would be.

Minutes before the end of the class, and the end of the school day, I sat back, finished. I was both pleased and displeased with the end result. The implications of it were worrying.

I glanced out the window and was met with something most peculiar. A thin black notebook fell from the sky to land on the shaded part of the lawn. I looked upwards to see who had thrown it from the roof but no one was there, at least not on the other buildings. The roof of the art building couldn't be seen from my vantage point.

A quick observation of the notebook showed it to be made of some kind of leather with white writing on the cover that I couldn't make out from here. Where had it come from?

Without knowing why, I drew my gaze upwards. To my astonishment, Light was in our homeroom, staring straight at me. He held my gaze, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that took my breath away. I couldn't move. The intensity was inhuman. How had I missed this side of him? This facet of his personality that, for some reason, I found utterly intoxicating.

Then, as sudden as it appeared, the expression was gone, replaced by geniality that was so _boring_ in comparison. He offered me a smile which I returned and gave his attention back to his teacher who I could see through the window.

I couldn't take my eyes away so readily, however, and it wasn't until the bell rang that I finally tore my gaze away from his profile. When I looked at the result of my work during the classroom, lying so innocently on the table, I scowled.

The bronze hair, brown eyes and brilliant grin was so incredibly bland, so beige, compared to the blazing red I had just seen.

* * *

"Light!" I called across the lawn. He turned on his heel, smiling as he saw me walking towards him. In his hand he held the notebook, the cover hidden from my view. Purposely hidden.

"Minerva," he greeted. I stopped right in front of him and very obviously let my eyes wander down his arm to look at the notebook. The reason he'd been able to get to it before me was because I'd had to return to the homeroom to get the books I needed for homework.

"May I?" I held out my hand. To his credit, Light didn't hesitate as he placed it in my hand. I imagined the way he let his fingers trace along mine as he released his grip was accidental.

The notebook was black, made of no material I had ever seen or felt before, and had the words Death Note written in English along the top. Curious, I opened the notebook and read what was inside the front cover aloud for the benefit of Light.

" _The human whose name is written in this note shall die._ " I frowned and continued in a quieter voice so those around us wouldn't hear. " _This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's name and face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected. If the cause of death is written within forty seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack. After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next six minutes and forty seconds._ " I flipped through the book and found nothing but blank lined pages. There were no other rules or writing anywhere.

"It's probably just a joke," said Light. He took the book from my hands and flicked through it himself, pausing on the rules and then the back cover. "Though it's pretty well thought out for a prank."

I nodded. "I wonder who dropped it, though. It's not like those chain mails that get sent around saying you'll die if you don't send it to another ten people. This is rather . . . harmless, except for the murder through names part."

"Yeah . . . Anyway, it wouldn't be a good idea to leave it lying around. We don't know who might pick it up." He slipped it into his bag, out of sight.

"Right, well, I need to be meeting my brother," I said. And, of course, Light offered to show me the way.

* * *

"Who was that?" asked Quinn as we walked home. The streets of Tokyo were filled with residents and tourists all intermingling and going about their lives, some gaping at the massively tall buildings of the business district, others hurrying about to whatever task they had before them, many heads bowed and staring into glaring cell phone screens.

"Oh, just one of my classmates. The teacher chose him to show me around to school," I replied, not taking my eyes off a group of girls sitting together on the stone wall around a park, legs swinging, hair in pigtails, chewing bubblegum. It was such a cliché image that I made certain it was committed to memory, determined to at least draw it later.

"Huh," was all Quinn said. I glanced down at him sharply. He shrugged. "He just seemed . . . like a musical score that had only just found the rhythm."

"You and your music metaphors." I ruffled his long blonde hair fondly.

"It's no different to your painting obsession. You did paint today, right?"

"Of course I did. Stop nagging, mom." He rolled his eyes and went back to scrolling through the music on his iPod, eyes racing through the thousands of songs.

That left me to my thoughts, of which there were quite a few. Ones that were not usually part of my wonderings, such as when I'd have time for homwork and planning my study sessions, invaded like they'd been there all along. Others were normal, such as what we would eat for dinner – lasagne – and how many threats it would take for Quinn to unpack his moving boxes.

Then there were the alien ones, that felt just as unfamiliar as they were.

Light, for one. A teenaged boy who I could almost say had a crush on me yet I knew that was not to be the case. In all his interactions with our classmates and me his body language had been, for the most part, outwardly platonic. Except for when he put his hand on me, of course. That action was an entirely different issue that I didn't want to dwell on. Safe enough to assume he wanted to be nothing more than friends and was being a helpful, if culturally deviant, classmate.

"Hey." I was suddenly pulled back by the collar of my jacket. Blinking, I realised I'd been about to step onto a street with a red 'no walking' light. Cars zipped through, unheeding the possible danger they posed to an unsuspecting tourist.

"Thanks," I said to Quinn, who took his hand off my jacket and went back to scrolling through his songs. How he managed to keep an eye on his surroundings with his head bowed over that machine was beyond me.

The light flicked over and we crossed, now only a few minutes from our apartment. It was near the city centre, a high market place that was way out of the normal citizen price range. It was lucky we didn't have to pay rent for it, the place already owned under the Catearro name.

When we reached the massively tall complex, I smiled at the doorman and let my brother lead me through the huge, marble-floored lobby. The complex was as high class as the most expensive hotels in Tokyo, with two chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, five stainless steel elevators dotted around the walls with keypads instead of up/down buttons and an overly lavish gym and pool set up through the double doors next to the far elevator. Quinn went over one of the west-wall elevators, closest to the main doors, and punched our apartment code. I was too engrossed in watching the receptionist flirt with his girlfriend over the front desk to bother doing it myself. When I went into the mirrored elevator and the doors closed the image was still there, along with the group of bubblegum girls.

The elevator opened up straight onto our apartment. It wasn't as much of a security risk as one might think – passcodes were given out to every new tenant and changed on a bimonthly basis, with the correct elevator only able to open on the room the keycode accessed. It meant there was some waiting in line for the elevators with only five elevators travelling the fifty storeys for each of the five apartments on each floor but it was a safety measure I appreciated. When the decision to go to Tokyo had been made, I'd worried constantly over Quinn's wellbeing in such a city, until the apartment building had come play.

The doors opened up onto a well furnished lounge, dining room and kitchen, the combined room longer than it was wide, with two corridors branching off either side for mine and Quinn's rooms and en suites, and a floor to ceiling window spanning the far wall. It provided a view of the city, facing east. Down below, the street the complex was situated on stretched all the way to one of the many public parks of Tokyo where the bubblegum girls had sat. Fortunately, all the windows in the apartment were double glazed and insulated so none of the noise of traffic and commuters interrupted the quiet.

Quinn immediately turned left to his room, his head bent over the music player. I walked over to the armchairs and couch set up around a coffee table in front of the window. If I went to my bedroom I would be sucked into sorting out the paintings still in their cases and never get any homework done. In a few minutes I'd check if Quinn was doing his.

The homework was undemanding, to my relief. The teachers seemed to want to have me start slow. Again, Japanese was the hardest subject yet it was made easier by having a full recall of everything written down in class.

I finished within two hours and realised that I hadn't checked on Quinn. From his hallway I could hear the sound of an acoustic guitar being plucked in some nameless tune he was probably making up. In no time that nameless tune would have a bass, drum and piano accompaniment and perhaps vocals if he was feeling particularly inspired.

However, before he became too engrossed, I would need to drag him out into the kitchen to help with cooking.

With an idea in mind, I went over to the kitchen, flipping on the lights of the room as I did so. A soft golden glow from the wall lights threw the dark green patterned walls into shadows. The light reflected off the granite countertop of the kitchen and the polished mahogany dining room table, casting enough light to see comfortably by but not so much I was blinded. Paintings were hideous when made sterile with too much light, in my opinion.

I opened the fridge door, peered inside, and sighed. We didn't have any eggs. There went all plans of making a dessert to entice Quinn out of his bedroom. I supposed I could go down to the local convenience store and buy a carton.

For now, dinner was priority. Lasagne, to keep something of our home in Canada alive. Plus, I had no ingredients for Asian cuisine.

Just as I started to heat up a pan on one of the elements, I heard Quinn's door open. There was a mutter, then footsteps hastily retreating, but before the door could be closed I called out.

"Since you're done with homework, I could really use your help." I grinned at his groan. He walked into the room, wearing only flannel pants decorated with musical notes. A present from Christmas.

Without me saying anything he opened one of the cupboards, pulled out a chopping board and got to work slicing up carrots.

"So, how was school?"

"Fine. Mayuki was very loud."

"Music class?"

"They weren't tone deaf."

"You know not everyone has your talent. Cut them some slack."

"It's not my fault they don't know what unforced vibrato is."

I rolled my eyes and went back to cooking. Between the two of us the meal was in a baking dish and in the oven by seven o'clock. It would be half an hour before it was fully cooked, which would give me plenty of time to go down to the convenience store and buy the eggs.

"You've done your homework, right?" I asked. Quinn nodded, placing the cooking utensils in the dishwasher. "I'm going to the store, do you need anything?"

"Nope."

"See you soon, then." I grabbed my jacket and bag, wallet and phone inside, and went into the elevator. The convenience store was only a ten minute walk from the complex – I'd researched where everything in the area was as soon as I knew we were coming here. A supermarket a block to the east, the convenience store down the street in the opposite direction to the school and a cram school in between where Quinn would start going in a week's time. For me, there wasn't really a point in going to a cram school when I only had half a year left.

The convenience store was right at the end of the busy road, where it split in two and travelled off into the shadier sides of Tokyo. There were still high school kids standing around, discussing trivial things like speed dating and the latest pop idol. One particularly loud boy was yelling at his mother for being late to pick him up from cram school.

I heard the sounds of motorcycles before I saw them. They approached from behind, great roaring engines that grated on my ears – even I, with only rudimentary machinery skills, could tell they needed a tune up.

Several of them passed by without so much as a glance but one slowed down until it cruised alongside me as I walked.

"Hey, pretty lady," the man on the bike said, leering at me. "You from out of town?" I tightened my grip on the strap of my satchel and ignored him. The biker scowled and leant towards me, an arm outstretched, when hooting and catcalls drew his attention. He growled and spat in my direction, which I ducked away to avoid, then took off down the road to the other bikers. I sighed in relief and released my white-knuckled grip on my bag. What a way to get a wake-up call to the darker side of Tokyo life.

Then I saw their other target.

"No! Please, someone help me!" the young woman screamed, struggling to get away from the men. I didn't even think – I just ran.

I sprinted towards the bikers, ignoring the painful thumping of my satchel on my hip and the shouts of people as I crashed into them.

I was within metres of the group when the young woman broke free and dashed across the road. The other bikers shouted and one of them kicked back his bike stand and sped after her.

That's when a truck came out of nowhere.

I could only watch, transfixed, as the semi rammed into the bike, glass and metal flying everywhere. Someone shouted "Takuo!" but it sounded like they were miles away.

Blood. There was so much blood. It dripped down the front of the truck, pooling on the road, splattered over the pavement. And – oh. The body.

I ripped my gaze away and closed my eyes, feeling rain start to fall on my shoulders.

 _Don't lose it. You can't afford to,_ I told myself. My breathing slowly evened out and eventually I could open my eyes without the fear of throwing up.

My eyes were drawn to the convenience store, where Light Yagami was staring back.

* * *

TOWRTA: Thank you to Defrali for the lovely review and those who followed this rather random story. Hope you guys enjoy it.

See you . . . soon?

Review if you wish.


	3. Skeleton

Chapter Two

"Light!" I called out, catching him in an alleyway off the main road. He glanced over his shoulder, the rain plastering his hair to his face and soaking through his beige jacket. It was a stark contrast to his presentation at school.

"Minerva," he said thickly, swallowing and straightening from his position leaning on the brick wall. I opened my mouth to say more, when I noticed the Death Note sticking out of his bag. Unthinking, I snatched it, a ridiculous conclusion forming.

Inside were the names Otoharada Kurou and Shibuimaru Takuo, the latter having been written in six different variations, each with accidental death next to it.

"What is this?" I murmured in bewilderment. Light jerked it from my hands and shoved it into his bag but the image was already seared in my mind.

"Minerva." I looked up to see him staring at me intensely. "You can't tell anyone."

"So you _did_ kill them?"

"They deserved it."

For a second I couldn't formulate a reply to such a ludicrous statement. Then my mind clicked and I shouted at him, "Are you kidding me? You think you have the right to decide who lives and who dies like some kind of god?"

He stared at me, the emotion in his eyes inscrutable. I returned his gaze despite feeling as though I was being judged for some intention that I wouldn't like. Decidedly uncomfortable, I refused to look away, even as he glanced down at the Death Note, took out a pen from his bag and wrote on the corner of the notebook. He tore off the paper and handed it to me. On it was the phone number for a residential landline.

"Huh?"

"We can't talk about it here. What's your number?" he asked, holding out the notebook for me to write on. Wary of the names written on its pages, I took it and groped around in my bag for the fountain pen I took with me everywhere. To my shock, I couldn't find it.

"Oh, no," I muttered. "It must have dropped out of my bag when I was running. Please don't tell me someone picked it up."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh?" I returned my focus back to the might-be murderer in front of me. "Nothing. Can I borrow your pen?" He handed it over and I wrote the number for my cell phone down, unwilling to let him have the apartment's. If Quinn picked it up, I would have some explaining to do.

"Here." I passed the Death Note back and shifted the strap of my satchel, searching for a way out of this situation.

"So what are you doing here?" Light asked, suddenly the picture of charming. Even soaking wet and still paler than healthy, he somehow managed to look perfectly presentable. I could only imagine that I looked like a drowned rat.

"Buying eggs for dessert. Speaking of which, I need to go back and pick them up."

"I'll walk you."

"Don't worry about it," I cut in quickly. "It's in the opposite direction of where you're going." Not to mention you may just kill another human being if I stand around you long enough.

"Alright then." Light held out his hand to shake. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

I stared at the hand for longer than was polite before taking it. As soon as I did I wished I hadn't. His hand was too warm and human for a killer to have. If someone did something so against nature, shouldn't it manifest on them somehow? Otherwise what is there to distinguish those evil from those good?

After shaking twice, I let go, stepped back and bade him a hasty goodbye with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. He smiled back and that calculation from earlier in the day was back. I was too anxious to leave to call him out on it.

The last thing I said to him was, "There's wet chalk powder in your hair."

Rushing back along the way I'd come, I scanned the footpath for the pen. I stepped onto the street where Takuo had been killed and kept my eyes on the ground, determined not to look at the violent scene of death.

A pair of black lace-up boots and the cuffs of blue pants appeared in my vision. A policeman gave me a hard stare that spoke of long nights and too little pay and said, "Sorry, Miss. There's been an accident. You'll need to take another route."

Over his shoulder a glint caught my eye. My silver embossed fountain pen was lying innocently on its side just across the street, winking at me in the light of the street lamps.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I need to get my pen. It's a family heirloom." I pointed to the pen. He frowned at the sight of it.

"If that is your pen, were you here when the accident occurred?" he asked. I opened my mouth to affirm it but what came out instead was,

"No. I dropped it before when I was on my way to buy some eggs and bumped into a friend. I ended up walking them home when I realised that I'd dropped it. Now, I am sorry, but I would rather not return home without it. If you'll excuse me." I made to move past him but he blocked my path.

"Miss, if you were here, you'll need to answer some questions."

"I just told you, I didn't see the accident."

"Is that blood on your shoes?"

"There is no possible way there is blood on my boots. It's been raining. Excuse me." I shoved past him and raced across the closed off street, scooping up my pen as I did so. Running forward, I dodged between various policemen and medical officers, leaping over the police-tape that was just being set up and sprinted all the way to the apartment building without looking back. There were shouts for me to stop that stopped as soon as I ran into the complex. Punching in the code for the elevator, I waited and heard nothing but the sound of the receptionist chatting on his phone to his girlfriend and the doorman shutting the door. The staff were paid to be discreet, I'd realised over the past few days living here.

In the apartment the lights were out, the television was off and there was no music coming from Quinn's room. A quick check revealed him sleeping soundly in his bed, still getting rid of the last dregs of jet lag. Good thing too; I had no eggs and no desire to cook.

Instead I threw my bag in my room, grabbed my easel and fountain pen stared out the window. I needed a distraction, something to take my mind away from Light and the Death Note and Takuo's bloody end. I put my pen to paper and started drawing the group of bubblegum girls, their eyes overly large and their waists too thin like the common Japanese comic style of drawing. When it was done and inked in I ripped off the page, placed it on the coffee table and started again, this time drawing a pair of realistic eyes that burned into my soul.

I looked at them. They looked back. Sighing in defeat, I got up and went to bed.

* * *

Saturday came and went and I spoke to Ayako, Mikoto and Nizomi, trying to appear as though I wasn't avoiding Light. The girls in the class were much more amiable towards me when I wasn't 'stealing' their man and soon I had a few acquaintances in class A-3 that were fun to talk to. Kuroda came up to me at the day's end as I was leaving to find Quinn. Thank goodness for the half day. A full would have been torture.

"Hey, Minerva-san!" he called out, coming up to my side. "What's up with you and Yagami? Did you guys already have a fight?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because you guys weren't speaking," he said in a 'duh' tone. "Yesterday you were inseparable."

"He was showing me around. That's all."

"Uh huh. Right." He obviously didn't believe me at all and yet he changed the subject. "Where are you off to now?"

"Picking my brother up from the middle school." We were walking along the outside of the prestigious academy. Though the middle school could be accessed directly through the high school compound it was more efficient to just go around the block on the outside rather than through a whole lot of doors and staircases that ensured the two schools didn't mix during class time. The view was more picturesque this way too – trees lined the streets, a park was across the road and students in uniform chatted to each other casually, making the oncoming cold weather seem to hold off for just little while longer.

"Your brother Quinn, right? He's fourteen?"

"Gossip sure does travel fast, doesn't it?"

"You joking? You're the most exciting thing to happen to this school since Yagami joined two years ago and took out all the top places and refused to be student council president. Apparently he was too busy with his studies."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," I mused. If anything I pegged him as someone with photographic memory. Capable of recall that regular people would only dream of.

We rounded the corner and came upon the younger school where a distinctive blonde head with earphones stuck out of the crowd like a sore thumb. We walked up to him and I slung my arm over his shoulders, taking a peek at what he was listening to. From the name I gathered it was one of the pop bands that were all over the local billboards.

"Who're you?" Quinn asked Kuroda immediately. If Kuroda took offense from his blunt attitude he didn't mention it.

"Nakamura Kuroda, at your service." He bowed theatrically, grinning like a loon. Quinn cracked a small smile at his antics. I nudged him with my hip.

"So, how was day two?" I asked.

"Less boring. The teacher had me do some private composition to see how good I was," he said.

"Let me guess. Your teacher was so shocked they couldn't speak for a full minute?"

"Three minutes."

I laughed at that. "Good job. Keep up the great work and soon all I'll be known as is Quinn Catearro's sister." Quinn nudged me back with his elbow. That's when Kuroda decided to speak up.

"I've gotta go. I'm meeting some friends to hang out. You guys can join us if want." I took one look at Quinn, who was pleading no with his eyes, and shook my head.

"We still need to finish unpacking at home."

Kuroda smiled. "Have fun with that." He waved to us and walked back the way we'd come, Quinn and I turning in the opposite direction. I hadn't lied about needing to unpack – somehow, within two years, we'd managed to accumulate a rather large amount of possessions.

Not to mention I had the feeling that these friends of Kuroda's including one Yagami Light. That, if nothing else, was a big enough deterrent on its own.

"Are you still annoyed with the uniform?" Quinn asked as we walked. I couldn't help but chuckle, remembering our morning conversation.

 _"Quinn, how do I look?"_

 _"Why do you sound so depressed?"_

 _"Because this skirt is something an American prostitute would wear."_

 _"Oh."_

"I've gotten used to it. I refuse to wear the thigh high socks, though."

"Good. Granny Hiro wouldn't want you to."

"True. She'd say they're indecent, wouldn't she."

"Mm hmm."

We walked the rest of the way home in silence where I changed out of my uniform into paint-splattered jeans and asked Quinn if he wanted to come with me to the supermarket for groceries. He ripped off a page of manuscript paper and scribbled on it.

"This is all I want," he said, passing me the paper and returning to plucking at his guitar. I ruffled his hair, knowing that he loved it despite his protests, and left to the supermarket. Maybe tonight we'd finally have something culturally accurate.

Sunday was spent unpacking, painting and watching the news anxiously as more and more criminals dropped dead due to heart attacks. Quinn had no idea why whenever there was news of a death I would tense up and quickly sit down in front of the television, waiting to hear more. Neither of us had ever been that interested in the affairs of the world but now . . . there was no way I could ignore these deaths when I knew how they were happening. And who was causing them.

On Monday Hisashi-sensei surprised me with an offer of helping with the lunchtime tutoring classes. I accepted immediately, happy to do more art anywhere I could. To my question of why, she smiled in a knowing way and said, "I thought you would like to have something to do during lunch." Then she laughed. "Plus, you're so good at painting, who wouldn't want to learn from you?"

"You've only seen two of my paintings, though," I countered.

"And from what I've seen, you can do better in fifteen minutes than what a lot of my students can do in fifteen days. They should learn from someone who is their age and so talented."

I looked at the picture I'd drawn that day, of a bronze coloured skeleton, and conceded that she was right when compared to the drawings of the others. They were good, to be sure, but only a few held the same amount of intensity that the skeleton did.

I left the art room, still buzzing about being able to help out with the art lessons, and almost didn't notice that my homeroom was occupied when I walked in.

"Ah, Minerva. How has your day been?" asked Light, leaning casually against my desk. I stopped in my tracks and for the first time that day I fully observed him, rather than quickly looking away after catching him in my periphery.

He looked . . . skeletal. He had obviously lost weight, his hair was duller, his eyes less bright. There was a tenseness to his shoulders that hadn't been there before and his fingers tapped on the side of my table. Now I knew where I'd gotten the skeleton idea from.

"Fine," I said. In keeping with the pretense of cordiality, I went on to say, "Hisashi-sensei asked me to help with the lunch time tutoring sessions for art."

"Is that one of your paintings there?" He gestured to the canvas I held under my arm. It was positioned in such a way that he couldn't see the bronze skeleton on its surface.

"A drawing, actually. I didn't have any inspiration to paint today." That was patently untrue but I wasn't about to tell him that. "How have classes been for you? I've heard you're aiming for To-Oh." Light raised an eyebrow. "Mikoto likes to keep an eye on her fellow students."

He laughed good-naturedly and held out a hand. "May I see it?" I hesitated just a moment before deciding it would do more harm than good to retain the skeletal picture. His expression was one of perfect interest, not showing the slightest hint of understanding the true nature of the drawing.

"Rather . . . morbid subject matter," he commented at length.

"In more than one way," I replied. The corner of his mouth twitched down and he handed back the canvas. With his hands in his pockets, he once more lent on my desk and considered me, his stare probing. I paid him no attention as I walked past him to grab my school books and rearrange my bag to carry the extra material. As soon as I was done the bag handle was snatched from my grasp.

"Shall I walk you home?" he asked, almost the exact replica of himself four days ago. Reluctantly, I nodded.

As we walked towards the middle school, my mind was a blur with all the possible reasons he was doing something so innocuous. Was he waiting to drag me into an alleyway to kill me, interrogate me, or worse? Was he trying to get on my good side for whatever convoluted scheme he had come up with?

The horrible idea of him trying to get to Quinn made itself known and I clenched my jaw. Any attempt at harming my little brother would result in extreme retaliation on my part.

The head of blonde hair became visible soon enough and I almost had to stop myself from grabbing Quinn by the arm and running all the way to the apartment. Instead I smiled cordially, introduced them officially and we were on our way, Quinn shooting Light the occasional suspicious look but otherwise ignoring them. Light kept up a shallow stream of chatter, asking about how classes were going, what I thought of Japan and other seemingly meaningless questions. Through it all the one thing I concentrated on was his voice and how it was colder than I remembered.

To my misfortune, Light had managed to wedge himself between Quinn and I and Quinn's reaction time wasn't fast enough to stop me from tripping up on an uneven piece of pavement. Light grabbed my arm in time to avoid me skinning my knees but I managed to knock my bag off his shoulder. The contents of the bag and my drawing fell to the ground. Each of us bent to collect everything together before the endless surge of pedestrians could crush it. Quinn hastily slipped on my bag, pushed my drawing into my hands and pulled me to my feet just as Light was offering a hand. I noticed, to my shame, that he held my history book in the other.

 _Oh gosh. The flip art from Friday._

"Thank you," I said, waiting for him to hand it back. He smirked and opened to the first page. My mouth dropped open at the open invasion of privacy. The shock quickly turned to mortification as he fanned the pages, watching the thumb-sized caricature of himself become a 17th century teakettle. He evaded my attempts to snatch the book and started off down the street. Quinn and I shared a look and hurried after him.

"Interesting," he said. I tried to make my nervous swallow as inaudible as possible. He still noticed. "Can I ask what prompted you to cartoonise me in such a way? This was done on Friday, wasn't it? After we came back from the courtyard." Quinn kept his eyes on me, his arms held away from himself as though he wanted nothing more than to jump up and snatch the book from Light's hands. I'd shown him to cartoon on Saturday.

"I, uh . . ." I wracked my brains for something not-stupid to say. "You know what they say. First impressions are always the most impacting." _Damn it._

"So when we first met your strongest impression was that I was a teapot?"

"No!"

"Really? Then what was it?"

"It was, uhm, that . . ." This was terrible. The words ' _well you're a murderer now so what does it matter?_ ' were heavy on my lips but I couldn't say _that_ with Quinn almost connected to my hip. Plus insulting someone I was almost certain was a mass murderer didn't seem like a good idea.

"Your hair looks like flat copper wires," Quinn spoke up. "Like a busted trombone horn. I've seen one once and it was like a peeled back banana peel."

 _Thank the Lord for little brothers,_ I thought. Then, _Quinn just got himself killed without even knowing!_

Light must have seen my look of abject horror for he hooked his arm through mine, pressed the history book into my palms and whispered, "We need to talk." I nodded quickly and drew away, entering our apartment building holding Quinn tightly around the shoulders.

* * *

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?"

" _That._ Him. What's his deal?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Quinn stared at me suspiciously, placed his tea towel on the counter and went to his room without a word. I sighed as soon as the door closed and pressed my forehead to the cold granite.

Those burning eyes stared back at me from the canvas by the window.

* * *

Tuesday went past without incident, with Light and I conversing when we both noticed the looks we were getting from Kuroda before school. It was disturbingly easy to fall back into that rhythm we had created on Friday, with Kuroda and Light talking about exams and mid-terms and girls. I would speak up when it was called for. Then they turned onto the topic of the heart-attack killings sweeping the nation and occasional targets internationally and I found myself almost gasping in relief when the Maths teacher entered.

Lunch saw me helping out with the art tutoring session. Word travelled fast through the school and according to Hisashi-sensei many of the students who showed up had never been before. With that weighing heavily on my shoulders, I followed Hisashi-sensei's lead and commented on and criticised portraits, landscapes, still-lifes, abstracts and whatever other projects the students were working on. By the end of lunch I found myself wanted to hide in my bedroom. Having attention cast on me was nerve-wracking at the best of times.

I escaped straight away after school on Tuesday, took a sullen Quinn home and finally made him self-saucing pudding for dessert. It was a welcome sight to see him smile at me after a near twenty-four hours of indifference.

Wednesday came and went with a massive storm and I managed to avoid Light after school again somehow and then it was Thursday.

And along came the _thing._

* * *

I walked into class on Thursday and stopped. Blinked. _Stared_ at the massive creature skulking behind Light's desk like some demonic shadow. A strangled gasp came out of my throat and Light's eyes met mine. Widened.

With shaking, teetering steps, I left the room and stumbled to the courtyard, unable to comprehend what my perfect memory was telling me.

The mutated body. The twisted, almost bat-like wings. The grimace of a smile and those giant, lifeless eyes. All combined with the frightening look of triumph on Light's face compounded with the word I'd heard over and over last night.

 _Kira. Kira. Kira._

"Minerva!" I fell onto the bench where we had first sat, head in my hands and trying not to let the horrified sobs out.

"Minerva," he said again, his shoes coming into view as well as the shadow of that _creature._ I shuddered.

"What is it?"

"A death god. A Shinigami. The original owner of the notebook." His voice was as clinical as the smell of antiseptic in a hospital. Overpowering. Smothering. Emotionless.

"Why is it _here_?"

"He's here to watch me. When I die, he'll write my name down in his notebook."

" _He?_ It has a gender now?" I glanced up to see Light's concerned face mere inches from mine. I frowned at him but the false sympathy he projected didn't disappear. Now if only the supernatural being of death could leave and this would almost be like a friend comforting someone in the throes of a panic attack.

Something in Light's expression cleared and he leaned back. "Come with me. It's best we talk about this at my home."

* * *

"Light? Is that you?" came a motherly voice from the depths of Light's home. We were in suburbian Tokyo, under the premise of my falling ill and Light taking me home. Light took his shoes off at the entrance and gestured for me to do the same.

"Yeah, Mum," he called. A kind face appeared around the corner of the hallway, polite confusion clouding her smile.

"Oh? Who's this?" For a moment I almost thought she was referring to the hulking beast behind us before I remembered that we were the only ones who could see him. My feeling of entrapment grew stronger.

"This is a friend from school, Catearro Minerva. She wasn't feeling well but she forgot her keys so I offered to bring her home until her brother is finished for the day." I could have laughed at how easy it was for Light to lie to his mother but instead I stepped forwards, bowing at the waist.

"It's wonderful to meet you," I said.

"Yagami Sachiko." She bowed in return. "You must be the exchange student Light has been talking about. I believe my daughter Sayu is the year above your younger brother."

"She attends Daikoku Middle School as well?"

"She's at Eishu Academy," said Light. "She didn't want to be known as 'Light's little sister'."

"I see," I replied, raising an eyebrow at his casual arrogance. He smirked back and told his mother we would be in his room.

"Of course. I'll bring you a snack soon."

"Don't worry. We still have our lunches."

Sachiko let us go easily, giving me another bright smile and wandering into the kitchen as Light led me upstairs into the darker floor of the house. I hunched my shoulders, trying to escape the claustrophobia creeping in with every second those dead eyes drilled into the back of my head.

"Here we are," Light said, opening a door and gesturing me inside. I walked in and stood awkwardly by the windows, cataloguing the perfectly made bed, the immaculate desk and his small library of classics and textbooks. Light pulled out the desk chair and the creature made itself comfortable on the bed, not a crease appearing on the coverlet.

"So, Minerva, meet Ryuk."

"Hi there," it said. There was a long moment of silence before I offered up a shaky, "Hello." Light frowned.

"Are you scared?"

I was startled into a laugh that was more of a bark. "No, of course not. I meet creepy, supernatural beings of death every other week."

The thing – Ryuk – spoke up. "Yeah, like you can talk, Light. You screamed when you saw me last night."

"He did?" I asked before I could stop myself. It laughed, like sandpaper on metal.

"He fell off his chair! Then he started monologuing about how he was ready to die and everything." The thought of it sent Ryuk into hysterical laughter and he began to twist unnaturally, his spine curving at an angle that would break a human's. A spike of fear shot through me and suddenly I couldn't be in the room anymore. Almost running, I made for the door.

A hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I ground to a halt seconds from banging into his wooden door.

"Let go of me," I said, nerves making my voice waver. Ryuk started to laugh harder. Light scowled in his direction which did nothing to stop the Shinigami. Sighing deeply, he pulled me to him, my weak legs almost sending me into his lap. For a few seconds he did nothing but stare. I closed my eyes, telling myself that there wasn't anything on the bed, in moments I would be on my way home to ignore that this ever happened and I could continue to detach myself from the reality of Light Yagami's murderous habits.

"Ryuk is right. You're very accepting of all this," he spoke up.

"Let me go."

"Why?"

"Let me go."

"Have you met other Shinigami before?"

" _Let me go!_ " I ripped my arm from his grasp and groped for the door handle. Just as my fingertips touched the cool steel, I was yanked back by my shirt and thrown onto the bed. I went straight through the Shinigami.

Two sets of eyes leered at me, one black and the other brown, both with something inhuman flickering in their depths. I found myself more afraid of Light at that moment.

Kira.

"Please, please, just let me leave." I pushed myself up but Light immediately grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back. He was too close. Much too close. His breath ghosted over my skin. It smelt of apples.

"I can't. You know too much."

"I won't tell, I promise I won't." _I have to get out of here. It's too much. Too soon. Quinn, where are you?_

"Ryuk, lock the door." Ryuk floated over and locked it with one taloned finger. The show of tangibility made the situation that much worse. "When I let go you are not allowed to run. Otherwise I'll be forced to do something I'd rather not."

"What are you going to do? Write my name in your notebook?" I hissed.

His calm was unflappable. "Maybe." My breath caught in my throat.

He let go and sat back on the chair, Ryuk at his side. I pushed myself back until I hit the headboard and clutched my bag to my chest like a shield. Light rested his head on his palm and looked at me as though I was a disappointing pet.

"What are we going to do with you, Minerva?" he mused.

"Let me go. I won't breathe a word to anyone. Who would believe me anyway?"

"I already said that isn't an option. Someone who knows about me and also Ryuk is too much of a liability without proper control."

" _Control?_ You're going to put a leash on me like a dog?"

"I have to do whatever is necessary. To become God I can't have someone standing in my way."

"God?" I must have misheard. "You want to become God?" The blasphemy was almost too much for me to handle. Light spread his hands.

"This power has been given to me, Minerva. Only I can use it for its proper purpose. To cleanse the world of evil so that only those good and kind remain, the ones who deserve to live with peace and security."

My mouth fell open. Ryuk was chuckling again. "You are _insane_ ," I murmured. "You honestly think that a human being with a notebook can take the place of the omnipotent, omniscient God? Light, you can't _possibly_ think that you have enough power to do so. And you think humanity wants to be ruled over by some kid with a pen who makes them live in fear every day? What sort of world would that be!?"

"Only those who commit crimes need fear. Everyone else is safe."

"Who are you to judge what is a crime or not? Who are you to discover each and every evil of this world? You can't do this! You're human! You have human emotions; resentment, anger, jealousy! Your standards are warped by what you have grown up in and so who are you to judge everyone else by them!?"

"I am God. Already people speak my name with reverence. The world is a better place for me doing this."

"Give me the notebook."

"What?"

"Give me the notebook. Now. Let me see who you have killed, who you have 'judged' to be unworthy."

"No."

"Give it to me!" I lunged forward and snatched for his bag where I had time and again seen the black cover poking out. He lifted it up out of my reach but I wasn't to be stopped. Before he could react, I stood on his bed and jumped at him. He yelped and let go of the bag to wrap his arms around my waist, leaving me perfectly able to grab the Death Note as the bag fell to the ground. I grinned in triumph, before realising just how compromising the situation we were in was.

"That was needlessly dramatic," he said, glaring, his nose almost touching mine. He dropped me to the floor with a heavy thump. I danced away, fingers firmly clamped over the strange leather. Ryuk watched on in interest. Swallowing, I opened to the first page and nearly dropped it. Dozens of names covered the page, some of them recognisable as those who had been recorded killed by Kira. The next five pages held the same, each of them boasting nothing but names, unlike the 'accidental death' of Shibuimaru Takuo. So many of them I remembered by their exposition on the television, but many more were unknowns. It was horrific to think of how many were still dying without the public aware.

I looked up and saw the young, handsome face of the creature that was the mind behind such atrocities. A scowl firmly set in place, I reached into my pocket and withdrew my lighter, a momento of a time long past.

Immediately I was knocked back onto the bed, Light struggling to rip the lighter from my grasp. For a few frantic seconds we struggled, until the natural strength he gained from simply being male won out and I was pinned.

"If you ever do that again, I won't hesitate to kill you," he said, panting, his hair dishevelled and brushing my cheek. I breathed in deeply, then stopped when our chests touched.

"Get off," I said quietly. He smirked and for a second I thought he might just lean closer. Then he shifted and rolled off, landing on the floor with perfect ease. Slowly, hesitantly, I sat up. The lighter and notebook were in his hands.

"So, Minerva." He flipped the lighter over and over. "I bet you have some questions."

It took a moment for me to grab one from the whirlwind spiralling through my mind. Eventually I settled on, "How can I see _him_?" Ryuk's ever present grin widened so every single one of his shark teeth was exposed.

"You touched the notebook. Anyone who touches the notebook can see me," replied Ryuk, amusement threaded through his voice.

"Is anything going to happen to me because I can?"

He laughed, glancing sideways at Light who was examining the lighter. "Not because of me."

Outside the window it started to rain. I gazed at the grey haze covering the city and wondered if I was ever going to escape this.

Light put my lighter in his bottom drawer and sat at his desk, pen poised over his history book as he turned on the television.

Eyes glassy, I hugged my bag again and settled in to wait until the end of school.

* * *

"Time for you to go." Light turned off the television, placed the Death Note in his bag and grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair. I didn't move, pencil still tracing the lines of some figure I couldn't quite comprehend. Light took my sketchbook from me and studied the drawings inside as I gathered my things and stood up. It was still raining. My bag wasn't waterproof.

"Here," Light tossed me a raincoat which hung off my frame. Giving back the sketchbook, he went downstairs and told Sachiko we were leaving. Ryuk hovered along behind as I trailed after him.

The journey home was quiet. Light only broke the silence to have me text Quinn instructions to go home ahead.

When we reached my street, after a good forty-five minute walk, he finally deigned to begin a conversation. Well, more of an interrogation.

"You will not tell anyone." I shook my head. "We can only discuss this at my house."

I sullenly replied, "Why would I discuss this at all?" _I want to be as far away from you and your murderous head as possible._

He must have seen my thoughts in my expression because his hand grasped mine. "We _will_ keep up a front of being friends at school. Make no mistake. We can't have anyone believing something has happened."

"Even though something _has_ happened?"

"Yes."

"Great. So I'll just smile, laugh prettily and all the while try not to think about the fact that you are a cold-hearted slaughterer by night?"

He sighed in frustration and let go to rake a hand through his hair, the other one occupied by an umbrella. The bronze flopped back on his forehead, ruffled and lifeless. On closer inspection it was obvious how far he'd fallen in less than a week. There were heavy bags under his eyes, his fingers twitched when he thought I wasn't looking and his whole demeanour spoke of mental turmoil. For all his professions of becoming 'God', his human body was rejecting wielding such power.

"Light," I said. He spared me a quick look out the corner of his eye. Bracing myself, I spoke my mind. "You are going to die if you keep doing this. Not from Ryuk. Someone will find out and they won't stand for it. Someone with power, _legal_ power. And when that happens that notebook won't be enough to keep you safe."

He chuckled and his knuckles brushed mine. I don't know if he even felt himself do it. It was like he was trying to ground himself somehow.

He murmured to himself. I only caught one word.

"Queen."

* * *

TOWRTA: First chapter length = total fluke. Last story I wrote the chapters were 3000 words at most. I guess this one may oscillate between lengths but it should generally stay around 6000.

Question to the readers: Do you prefer long chapters and longer times between updates and less chapters in total, or shorter chapters with closer updates and more chapters in total? I'll tailor it to your specifications.

The pace starts to pick up a bit more from here.

Review if you feel so inclined. It will be nice to hear your thoughts and know your theories on what's going to happen.

Next chapter: meet the Yagami family!


	4. Grey

Chapter Three

Friday came with receiving the results of mid-terms, which I had taken in lieu of examined entrance into the Academy. My ranking within the nation was 29th. I blinked in surprise. Miss Hisashi clapped with joy when she got the news out of me during lunch. Kuroda slapped me on the back. Nizomi and Mikoto were congratulating, though I could see the jealousy behind Mikoto's eyes. Ayako smiled in her gentle, sweet way.

Light smiled, gave me a cordial hug and made sure I saw the 1st place on his results as he placed them in his bag.

I smiled back. I'd figured out what it was I drew at his house.

The blurred image of a man hanging.

* * *

Quinn turned on the TV that night.

" _We'd like to apologise for the interruption. As of now we are bringing you a live, world-wide broadcast of Interpol's ICPO._ "

I watched in surprise as a man named Lind L. Tailor appeared on screen. Surprise quickly turned to dismay.

" _Otherwise known as L._ "

 _Oh no. Oh please, no. This is exactly what I was worried about._

I scrambled into my room and dialled in the number that appeared in my mind's eye. It was picked up on the third excruciatingly slow ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Yagami-san, it's Minerva. Can I talk to Light?"

"Oh course, Catearro-san. It's lovely hearing from you so soon. What did you want to talk to him about?"

"I have a question on some of the homework we were given for maths." _Come on. I need to get to him before he does something stupid._

"I am sure he'll be happy to help. Have you seen what's on the TV right now?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, I haven't."

"Well, Light can tell you about it. Here he is." Sachiko's voice sounded amused. There was the crackle of static.

Then, "Yes?"

"It's Minerva."

There was silence on the other end, broken only by the sound of the door shutting. I held my breath, listeneing to Lind L. Tailor spout a diatribe on Kira.

"Yes?"

"Light! I know you are watching the L announcement at the moment. Don't you dare kill him. He is an international detective who can solve any case. Please, do not kill him." There was no reply again but this time I stiffened as I heard the ominous sound of pen on paper. "Please don't tell me that you are writing his name down."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I guarantee you that L would have rigged this thing in some way to work out where you are! What would L gain if he just died and left the entire world to the hands of the police? He must have a plan in this; for all we know that might not even be L! How could you not think of –" I broke off at Quinn's gasp, whirled around and ran into the living room. My mind blanked at the sight of Lind L. Tailor slumped over on his desk, motionless.

"Minerva?" Light's voice came through. I narrowed my eyes and didn't bother to leave, regardless of the fact that Quinn could hear here. Soon the entire world would know of Light's stupidity.

"You. Are. An. Idiot."

The screen changed suddenly and switched to a gothic L emblazoned on white. A heavily synthesised voice spoke.

" _I – I had to test this just in case but I never thought it would actually happen_." They sounded disturbed and almost . . . triumphant.

Light inhaled sharply.

" _Kira, it seems you can kill people without having to be there in person. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't just witnessed it. Listen to me, Kira. If you did indeed_ kill _Lind L. Tailor – the man you just saw die on television – I should tell you that he was an inmate whose execution was scheduled for today. That wasn't me._ "

"What?" Light gasped.

"Idiot. A complete idiot," I repeated.

" _The police arrested him in absolute secrecy so you wouldn't have heard about him on TV or on the internet but it appears that not even you have access to information about these types of criminals._ " Ryuk chuckled in the background. " _But I assure you, L_ is _real. I do exist. Now, try to kill me!_ "

I watched, the phone almost slipping from my hand, as L backed Kira into a corner. Light's breathing grew heavier and heavier with every word that came from the invisible man's mouth. By the time it was over with a final, " _Let's meet again soon, Kira,_ " Ryuk was laughing. I fell onto the sofa next to Quinn. He switched the television off.

"We need to meet," said Light.

"I don't think so." I hung up, tucked Quinn into my side and said, "You won't mind walking to school by yourself tomorrow, right?"

Quinn, being the perfect little brother he was, simply shook his head. No questions, no fuss.

So much better than Light Yagami.

* * *

On Saturday I finally remembered the need to buy eggs. Photographic memory only extended so far when it came to whimsical thoughts before traumatic events. So into the rain I went, feeling the winter chill more thoroughly than ever. Tokyo, as I'd discovered, had a much warmer winter than Canada, which meant that I could forgo the fluffy hooded coat from Granny Hiro. In jeans and a raincoat with nothing but my wallet and phone, I headed out with a quick word to Quinn.

It started raining mere seconds into the walk, the heavy, painful kind that blurred everything together into a grey watercolour. It drilled into the sidewalk as though trying to escape the watchful clouds above. They were heavy, black and oppressive with the rain that had been falling for a week now. The hallways of Daikoku hadn't been dry since Tuesday.

Still, it was better than a blizzard. I slogged through, barely paying the unbroken mass of water any attention as my mind whirled with thoughts of driving the old quadbike through the hunting range and Quinn sneaking up behind me to shove snow down my collar. A smile curled my lips even as a twist of homesickness made itself known in my chest.

So caught up in the memories I almost didn't notice when a bike shot past just too close for comfort. The red haze of its lights disappeared into the downpour within seconds, but then another came, and another. Their engines roared, in dire need of a tune up. Familiar.

The rain suddenly started to lessen, which at first I thought was fortunate. It only took a minute or so before than idea was inverted.

One of the bikes wheeled around and just as it was passing the biker looked at me and recognition burst within his eyes. He'd been the one who'd spat at me during the night Takuo was killed. I walked faster, and just like before he cruised alongside.

"Hey!" he shouted. A few of his biker mates slowed and joined him. There were pitifully few cars driving along the street.

"Who's the broad?" one of them asked.

"She was there when Takuo got hit," he replied.

"She was there?"

"Yeah."

"I saw her. Chick was running toward him just when the truck came."

There was something about their voices that worried me. A touch of madness in their tones, an undercurrent of fear. The threat of Kira was strongest in criminals like these, lowlifes who knew they did not have the power to possibly fight the 'god of justice' off. They were scared, superstitious, and scared people did stupid things.

If I'd known how badly that night ended I would have run right there and then. In one second the night took a much deadlier turn.

"What if she was the one who killed him?"

"Like Kira?"

"She's Kira?"

My heart froze in my chest. My legs refused to move. The bikers halted and one by one twisted on their seats to stare, their eyes no different to those of wild, injured animals bent on revenge.

"Kira," one of them hissed. He revved his motorcycle. The first reached into his back pocket. I dropped into a dead sprint before I could see what he had.

The engines of the bikes roared to life behind me and they were off with a screech of rubber on concrete. I careened down the street, knocking those brave enough to wander the streets out of the way. The lightened rain meant I couldn't hide, couldn't meld with the grey background because they could _see_ me.

I remembered the road narrowed into suburban Tokyo. The route Light and I had taken flared in my mind, redirecting itself to coincide with my current path. Alleways connecting the route into a labyrinth appeared like a map and I ducked down the closest one I could find, dodging a wild grab from the frontmost biker. The alley was too small to fit them, perfect for me, but it was short and led out onto another wide street that my pursuers swerved onto quickly. They shouted, they swore, kicking up large sprays of water in their wake as they hurtled after me. Another alley, another wide road, again and again until all I could feel was fear and visualise a haphazard connect-the-dots to Light's house.

My breathing was coming heavily. I tore down another narrow street when my escape was blocked. The motorcyle was quiet, a mere purr compared to the hungry screaming of the other machines, and its rider wore a grey helmet that melted into the rain so he appeared decapitated. A scream caught in my throat as the jeers of his friends shouted from the other side. He and one of the others dismounted and entered the alley, their shoulders nearly touching the walls on either side.

Trapped, I cast around desperately. A lower wooden fence was only a few metres to my left, closer to the group. Taking one last look at the grey-helmeted motorcyclist, I ran in the other direction. The biker on that side laughed, his mouth twisting into a cruel grin as his spread his arms as if to embrace me. Only a mere two metres from him, I used the brick building to one side to catapult myself onto the top of the wooden fence and over. A nail, hidden by the haze, ripped through my jeans as I tumbled down, and gored, tore, down my left leg. A strangled shout rent its way through my throat. Collapsed on the ground, I gasped for breath as my leg burned with pain.

 _Get up. Move. You can't stay here. Get to Light's and he'll protect you._ Following the instruction, I struggled to my feet and limped forwards, using the closest wall as a support. My shoulder banged into metal. Biting down a curse, I felt for the object. A ladder. I glanced down the rest of the path which was shrouded in darkness and then up the ladder. Raindrops splashed into my eyes, blinding me momentarily. Two options presented themselves; onwards, to where the bikers might be circling like vultures, or up to what could be nothing but a blank wall.

Steeling myself, I placed my hands on the rungs and slowly, agonisingly, pulled myself up.

Soon enough the ladder gave way to rusty emergency exit which opened with one hard shove. I crawled in.

The room itself was dark, too dark to see anything, but lent itself the atmosphere of largeness, a great, dilapidated maw of a building. The floor was wooden and splintering but it was dry and as soon as I was far enough away from the sound of the rain through the open door I curled up. My hair was a bedraggled mess, sticking to my face and neck, and water had soaked my shirt beneath my raincoat. The injury to my leg only grew in intensity of agony.

 _I need . . . someone._

Fumbling, I reached for the phone in my pocket and rang the first number I found. Vaguely I realised it was late and maybe whoever I was calling would be in bed but damn that, I needed help. A shiver wracked my body, causing it to spasm. My free hand smacked the wooden floorboards painfully.

The phone stopped ringing. "Yes?" I heaved a breath, a thousand words trying to make their way from my mind to my mouth but all that came out before my consciousness faded was,

"Help me."

* * *

When I awoke it was to the view of a dimly lit ceiling that I had seen before, cream-coloured and bland. Not my room, that was for certain; the apartment ceilings were all stark white or grey. Even Daikoku Academy had white plaster.

 _Light's room. What am I doing here?_ I tried to sit up and was immediately hit by a wave of pain from my leg. It broke through the just-awoken mist over my mind and the memories that went with it came flooding back with a vengeance. I gritted my teeth and flopped back onto the soft pillows, concious that I was lying between the sheets of a serial killer.

A serial killer who had, apparently, braved the stormy night to find me in an abandoned building bring me back here to . . . stitch up my leg? Layered under the torturous sensation of torn flesh was definitely an unnatural tug, like I'd been sewn up as a living puppet.

That disturbing thought was quickly overriden by the notion that instead of Light himself finding me, he'd sent Ryuk to get his hands wet and that I'd been carried here in the arms of an unnatural creature of death who dressed like a punk rocker. A shudder ran through my body, and this time it wasn't from bloodloss or cold.

"You're awake, finally." There was a creak and a groan. Light was sitting at his desk, straightening from where he had been slumped over, a blanket over his shoulders. His hair was a mess and his shirt was wrinkled and creased in the pattern of recently dried cotton that remained unironed. Ryuk was nowhere to be seen. A part of me shrivelled with guilt at supposing that Light did not have the capacity to get me himself.

"How did you find me?" I asked, my voice a dry rasp.

"Triangulated the phone signal. You never hung up," he said as he stood and placed a water bottle in my hand. I was too tired to recoil. All I could manage was to wonder why he had the technology to do such a thing. Something better left unsaid, I assumed.

After an awkward, drawn out silence in which he sat back down, eyes focused unseeingly on the closed curtains, I managed to gather my courage enough to ask, "So why did you bother to help? Aren't I more use to you dead?" A frown marred his line-less face, creating a persona of a young academic who'd learnt too much of the world already.

"You think I'm so cruel as to deprive your brother of you?" I swallowed, too afraid to answer that question. He sighed. "Minerva, you can be of use to me. And your death could be seen as suspicious if someone was to investigate."

 _Right. It's all about you. How could I forget?_

"Also . . ." a smile tugged at his lips, lighting his whole face with something so much younger, more innocent than his usual blank expression. This was the boy who girls swooned over at Daikoku. "You are rather different to anyone else I've met. It's refreshing."

The cold, hard fear that settled in my heart whenever he was near stoppered any physical reaction I might have had to what he said, luckily. He must have seen something in my gaze anyway because his smile grew.

"I need to call my brother," I cut in before he could spout anymore ridiculous, affecting lies. Smirk still firmly in place, gave me my cell phone. It had been sitting on his desk. He'd probably read every text on it.

"Quinn?" I said when it stopped ringing.

"V? Where are you? You've been gone all night."

I grimaced. That many words so quickly was basically babbling for my younger brother. "I managed to hurt myself. I'll tell you everything when I see you, but I'm at Light's now."

"Are you safe?" His tone was flat, mistrustful.

"I'll be fine." I cast a wary eye at my host. "I'll be home as soon as possible."

"Good. You need to paint. I know you didn't yesterday."

"I know. See you soon."

"Bye."

Light didn't take my phone from me when the call ended, surprisingly.

"I'll be back," he said, flicking the lights on as he left the room. With no other distractions my injury made itself known with a vengeance. I tossed back the covers and inspected it. And found I was wearing only my underwear and singlet. And that it was cold in Light's room. Gritting my teeth, I pulled back the bandages to see a neat line of black stitches down the very centre of my thigh, the skin around them angry and red. The wound itself was hideous in its jagged depth. I could feel my muscles seizing around it.

The stitches were almost medically perfect, I noted. I'd seen plenty of wounds from bearhunts during my time in Canada and this was almost as well cleaned and repaired as the results the doctors over there produced. Was there anything Light couldn't do?

"I had to get stitches when I was twelve after I slipped off a wall in the park. It wasn't too hard to replicate the process." Light was back, a glass of water in hand. I took it gratefully with a nod of thanks.

"So, tell me." He sat down. "How do you know L?"

I nearly choked on the water. The glass hit the sidetable top with a dull thud. Light didn't move to take it.

"Well?"

"Oh, I knew someone in Canada who'd worked on a case with him before," I lied. Light raised an eyebrow, obviously aware of the falsehood.

"What was the case?"

"He'd worked in Kentucky before moving to Canada. During March it rained meat for three minutes. L was interested."

"Rained meat?"

"Yes. They discovered it was lung tissue from infants."

"Where did it come from?"

"No idea. They classified the case before he learned the cause."

"I see . . ." Light's disbelief was palpable. "Just to clarify this, do you mind if I research?" He spun on his chair and quickly typed in the case into his search drive. Within seconds he had me disproven. It was a story I was told when I was young, and it had enthralled Quinn and I. I'd never bothered to find out the date it occurred though, assuming it was in recent times. As it turned out, the Kentucky meat shower happened 1876.

 _Damn._

"L and this source of yours are immortals, I take it?" Light asked.

"Shut up," I shot back, folding my arms and falling back on his pillows. The annoyance of being caught out for the lie coalesced into mindless irritation and obstinancy. "I'm not going to tell you how I know L, though."

"Don't worry," Light practically purred. "I'll get it out of you someday." I scowled at the ceiling.

That was when Ryuk came through the wall. I clamped my jaw down on a screech and scrambled back into the pillows. He grinned at me.

"Hey, Light, I want an apple." Light rolled his eyes.

"Fine." To me he said, "Stay here," and exited, leaving only Ryuk and I together. Ryuk started to speak before I could feign unconsciousness.

"You know he only wants to use you, right?" he asked in that gravelly, grating voice of his.

"I gathered as much," I replied. Despite the recent drink my mouth was suddenly dry.

Ryuk chuckled and floated closer. "He was mumbling your name last night as he slept. Something about being a Queen . . ."

That was the second time I'd heard that word in association with Light. "What does he want with me?"

"To –" The door swung open, cutting him off. The instant his eyes caught sight of the red apple in Light's hand I knew I'd lost all hope of getting answers from the Shinigami.

"What did he say –" Light began but this time it was his turn to get cut off as a young girl, cute with black hair and large eyes, bounded into the room, saying,

"Light! This is the first time you've opened your door since . . ." She trailed off at the sight of me. I tried to smile. It didn't work.

"Who's that?" she hissed to Light, who was pretending to be worried as he swiped the apple from Ryuk's grip and bit into it.

"Don't tell Mum and Dad, okay?" he said, tugging her by the arm. His role swap into older brother was rather impressive. The girl nodded, suddenly looking a lot more excited. A gossip, then. Light sighed, and gestured to me. "This is my girlfriend, Catearro Minerva."

Something in my mind broke. I barely noticed in the midst of my mental meltdown when the girl turned to me and grinned predatorily, some hint of her relation to Light peeking through.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend, Light!" she exclaimed. Her expression turned sly. "Is that why you told Mum and Dad to go out without us?"

"Believe me, I wanted you to go with them too."

"Mean!" She bounded over to the bed, taking in my lack of attire with a gleeful eye. "I'm Yagami Sayu, Light's little sister. How long have you two been dating?"

"Uh . . . I moved here last Friday."

"She's the transfer I was telling you about."

"Whoa, you guys are already dating after less than a week? It's like a romance novel!"

"More like a horror," I muttered. Sayu was too busy babbling to hear but I know Light heard from the way his hands curled into fists. Right, time for some damage control. "Hey, Sayu?" Sayu started, a frown marring her pretty face. "Oh, sorry. I'm from Canada so I haven't gotten into the swing of honorifics." I started again. "Sayu-san, do you have anything I could draw with?"

"Draw?"

"Yes, I'm an artist."

Her eyes lit up. "Could you draw me?" she asked in awe. I smiled. Hook, line and sinker.

"Of course. Just give me a minute to get dressed and I'd be happy to."

"All right! I'll go find my old sketchpad!" she skipped out of the room, slamming it shut behind her. Light tossed the apple back to Ryuk, who looked disturbed to eat something Light had already chewed. His addiction won out though and soon the whole fruit was down his gullet, stem and all.

"Here." Light threw me a pair of sweatpants and a old jersey. I quickly pulled on the jersey – it was so oversized it hung off my frame like a child's ghost costume – and attempted to get the sweatpants on. My injury wasn't having any of that though, as it sent jagged shards of _hurt_ through my leg and up my torso as soon as I shifted it. Groaning in frustration, I smacked the sweatpants on the cover and leaned back, trying to cover up the fact that I was shaking.

"Where are my jeans?" I asked.

"I threw them out. They were bloody and ripped. You never did tell me how you managed to hurt yourself."

"Takuo's biker gang. They blamed me for his death. Called me _Kira_." I scowled at him, all my original anger and annoyance coming back, this time directed at him. "They chased me and I hurt myself trying to get away."

To my shock, Light was at my side in an instant, hands firmly tilting my head so he could peer into my eyes. His breath mingled with mine. There, in the depths of the brown irises, I thought I saw a flicker of concern. It was quickly overwhelmed by hard anger.

"They will pay for this," he hissed, letting go and pacing across the length of his room. "It's because of people like them that this world is so rotten. I _will_ rid the world of them. I _will_ make it better and you'll see! Everything will be better for it."

"Light . . ."

He twisted and came back, grabbing my hand in a grip that was crushing. His gaze was wild, terrifying. "Minerva, I promise you, I won't stop until no one can hurt you anymore."

I could see the ulterior motive in his words, the calculating set of his mouth despite the fury in his eyes. It was as though manipulation was his natural language even when his temper reigned. I swallowed and nodded because I had no idea what else to do when confronted with someone who had become _this_ within a week.

He must have thought my agreement was honest because his hold relaxed until it was an imitation of the comfort given between friends. His fingers interlaced with mine as he sat down on the edge of the bed, much too close.

Pounding footsteps came rushing up to the door and it swung open to reveal Sayu, grin firmly set in place. She stopped upon entering, eyes growing wide at seeing Light and I together. A sound came out of her mouth that I placed firmly within the hearing range of most dogs. It wasn't human, that's for sure.

"You two are so cute together!" she cried, dancing into the room and straight through Ryuk.

"You're not going to tell Mum or Dad, right?" Light asked, a warning in his voice. She shook her head.

"Of course not!" she said. She stuck her tongue out at him, the sentiment 'duh' written all over her face. "Now go away, I want to talk to Minerva-san alone."

"It's my room."

"And I have a massive rip through my leg," I whispered to him. Squeezing my hand once, he got up and grabbed his bag.

"Don't mess with my stuff," he said to Sayu, ruffling her hair on his way out. She smacked him with her sketchbook. Ryuk phased through the wall with him. As soon as he was gone she rushed to his desk, opening his drawers.

"Aha!" she cried, pulling out a journal marked 'diary'. I scoffed inwardly. As if Light would write anything important in there.

"Don't you want me to draw you?" I asked.

"Oh, right." She replaced the diary and bounced onto the bed. "So how does this work? Do you want me to pose or turn up to lights or wear something different or –" I held up my hand to cut her off, smiling.

"Unless you want to wear something different I don't mind. Just make sure you're comfortable."

"Okay." She gave me the pencils – good quality ones, I noted – and sketchbook and sat in Light's chair with her legs crossed. I was hit by the very obvious differences between the siblings. How had Light managed to turn into the manipulative liar with a god-complex when he was raised in the same environment as this bouncy, happy girl was?

The old saying 'genius is a curse' wandered through my mind and not for the first time I found myself agreeing with it.

I got to work sketching her figure, including only the chair. When a few minutes passed and she started to fidget, I said in amusement, "You can talk, you know."

"Really?"

"Yes. As long as you stay still it's fine. I've already got the basics of your face down."

She let out a long breath in relief. "So how did you and Light meet?"

"He gave me a tour of the school on my first day."

"When did he ask you out?"

A chuckle escaped my lips. "On Thursday."

"And you've already spent the night!?" I glanced up at her shrewdly to see the blush on her cheeks. In that instant I could see where her thoughts were going and almost blushed myself.

"It's not what you think," I said. "I got into a spot of trouble last night and I couldn't get home. I've only been here a week and Light is my closest . . . friend." And wasn't that a depressing thought.

Sayu nodded, the blush slow in disappearing, and looked down at her hands.

"Head up."

"Sorry." She seemed to be wrestling with something inwardly, her mouth pinched, brows furrowed. I didn't pry, instead focusing on the way her brown hair fell over her forehead and shoulders. If there was something the Yagami siblings had in common it was their good looks.

Eventually she spoke up, softly, hesitantly. "Why are you dating my brother?"

I blinked, pencil freezing on her interlocked fingers in her lap. "Pardon?"

"Why are you dating him? I saw the way you looked at him before I walked in. You looked . . . scared."

Oh. So there was another thing they shared. Irritatingly sharp observational skills.

 _Light, for once I could use one of your lies._

I set the sketchpad to the side and leaned back on the pillows, looking into the middle distance. How in the world was I going to get myself out of this one? I didn't want to lie to the girl yet there seemed no way around it. After several false starts, I finally managed a simple, "He's like no one I've met before."

"Then why were you scared?"

It took me a second before a very good reason came to me. I pushed off the covers, exposing the gruesome injury. She gasped, got off the chair and padded closer, morbidly curious.

"How did it happen?" she whispered, as though speaking any louder would make the injury worse.

"Some bikers last night. They were the trouble. Light was the one who stitched me up."

"So that's why you stayed the night."

I nodded. "I wasn't scared of Light. I was remembering last night."

"And he was comforting you!" The dots quickly connected in her mind, albeit into a pattern that was a little off from the true picture. "Now it makes sense. Light's a good guy, isn't he?"

I smiled, unable to do anything more without blurting the name Kira to her. She rattled off a few more questions like did it hurt? are you going to stay much longer? how did it happen? and trotted back to the chair. I finished her portrait quickly and let her join me on the bed as I filled in the gaps and finished the shading from memory. Her constant stream of chatter was a nice change from Light's poisonous words and long stares. When it was done she squealed in delight, hugged me and ran out of the room. Light came back seconds later.

"Did she steal my diary?"

"She tried to. I distracted her though."

"Thanks."

"There's nothing in there, right?"

He laughed. "I've got to keep up appearances somehow. You should get some rest. We'll need to explain to my parents what happened when they get home tonight."

I grimaced at the thought but dutifully slid down and hugged myself beneath the blankets. Sayu's light-hearted manner had eased my heart and I didn't want to wait around for Ryuk to return. Those dead eyes were a surefire way to bring back my horror.

Sleep came quickly.

Peaceful sleep didn't.

* * *

There was blood on the walls. Fire licking the curtains. A body on the ground, another on the chair, twitching and groaning.

I knelt on the ground, hands tied behind my back, and tried to keep the hysterical, terrified sobs that shook my body at bay. A voice spoke above me but I couldn't understand. Smoke was filling the room, bringing tears to my eyes and coating my mouth and nose with ash.

My hair was jerked roughly and my head pulled back so I could see the blank, staring face of my attacker looking down from above. As I watched the dark eyes reddened, the hair lengthened and a profoundly familiar smirk twisted their lips. I look back at the entity of Kira, covered in the skin of Light Yagami. It grinned. A knife rested on my throat.

"Please," I begged. My voice was young, high, the voice of a child barely out of infancy.

Kira leaned closer, those red eyes burning.

"Don't worry. You won't feel a thing." With that it stabbed the knife into my throat but it was my leg that tore open. I screamed, falling to the ground with the knife still in my trachea. Hands grabbed me but I fought them off, curling into a ball and muffling my screaming with my knees as blood poured out of the gash in my thigh.

The fire grew hotter and I heard the unnatural, grating laugh of Ryuk resounding through the room. I hugged myself tighter and let myself be burned alive.

* * *

"Minerva! Minerva!" I shot up, covered in a cold sweat. There were people in my room. There were never people in my room. Even Quinn knew never to enter.

"Minerva!" Slowly the sensation of fire and blood drifted away and I realised who the people were, where I was. Light's room, with Sayu and Light and Sachiko and a man who could only be Light's father watching me worriedly. Light was sitting on the bed, holding both my hands.

"What were you dreaming about?" Light asked. I shook my head. I had already shuffled the dream into the mental box full of all the others, never to be opened again. He touched my forehead and then checked my leg. The stitches were still intact, like I knew they would be. After years of being restained, I never thrashed during a nightmare, only screamed.

"Light, should we leave you two alone?" asked Sachiko, wringing her hands nervously. Sayu was gaping in fear and Light's father was visibly disturbed.

"No, don't worry," I said, already sounding like myself. I threw off the last vestiges of the nightmare and smiled at the family. "Sorry for the disturbance. I should have warned Light."

"Do you often have nightmares?" asked Mr Yagami.

"I used to have a lot when I was younger. It's gotten better as I've grown."

"I see." His frown didn't let up but did become less severe. He nodded his head. "I'm Yagami Soichiro. Light told us you were injured by a biker gang."

"Just chased. I was injured when I was running from them." I shifted my leg out from under the covers. Sachiko gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Soichiro stiffened. "Your son stitched me up and let me stay the night."

"I'll drive you to the hospital," Soichiro said immediately. "Are you well enough to move?" With Light helping me, I managed to struggle out of the covers though it required extreme compartmentalisation of the pain. Panting, I leant heavily on him and let none of my weight on my left leg.

Sayu stifled a giggle. I looked up and realised that Soichiro and Sachiko were staring at Light in disappointment. Light sighed and said, "There was no other way to sew up the wound. Nothing happened, I assure you."

I looked down at myself and realised I was only wearing Light's oversized jersey that fell to mid-thigh. A blush stained my cheeks. What an impression to make.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "It hurt to much to put on the pants."

"It's fine, dear," said Sachiko, coming over. "Sayu and I can help." She levelled Light with a look so fearsome it was a wonder he didn't wither where he stood. "Sayu, can you come help Minerva-san? Soichiro, Light, you can wait in the hall."

The men were hustled out of the room and somehow it took Sachiko only moments to slide on the sweatpants Light had left out while I used Sayu as a crutch. Then they helped me hobble out of the room and into the hallway. Light ducked into his bedroom before the door closed and came out with a bag containing my jacket, shirt and shoes.

With Light's guidance and Sachiko hovering like Ryuk, I made it down the stairs step by painstaking step, and into the car waiting outside. The rain had let up and the residential street looked picturesque in the dying light of the setting sun. A chill had me shifting closer to Light.

The drive to the hospital was silent while I checked my messages from Quinn, tucked securely between the siblings in the back seat. He asked only if I was sure when I would be home. His independence was reassuring but I found myself worrying about him. We had only ever been apart this long during a school day.

Ryuk followed the car like a grotesque parade balloon. I turned to Light and said, "Quinn needs to know what happened."

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll make sure he gets here."

* * *

"V?" A quiet voice interrupted my drawing. Sayu had brought her sketchbook with her to give me something to do. At the doorway to the hospital room stood Quinn, his blonde hair a mess and eyes worried. I set aside the pad and held out my arms. He dropped his bag and ran to me, burying his face in my neck.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. He clutched me tighter.

Light stood up from his chair by the window, gave me one last look and left.

I closed my eyes and returned Quinn's embrace with equal fervour.

"I missed you, Q."

* * *

TOWRTA: I don't know what's happening. I've already veered from my plot line! It's been _three chapters._

This is getting ridiculous. (Plus this story is pretty much unedited - sorry for mistakes. I don't have time to go through it)

Additional note: This is a peace offering. I have exams coming up which I need to ace and so I don't know when I'm going to have the time to write this story again. We'll just have to see, alright? Thank you for all those that have reviewed and favourited and followed! It's great to know that my writing is worth something.

Reply to Prince (anon): 'Stockholm Syndrome'? I hope not. And I hope this answers some part of your Queen question. Remember, Light doesn't do anything by mistake (usually) so if she heard him, she was probably meant to. Oh ho ho.

Review if you feel so inclined.


	5. Drawer

TOWRTA: Shorter chapter. I've decided to cut the length in order to get the chapters out faster and not feel so overwhelmed. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Four

Monday was spent in hospital with Quinn at my side the whole time. Light was at school and only came in the afternoon to give me the homework I had missed from that day and Saturday. Other than that, my day was blessedly Kira-free.

I tried to ignore Ryuk who would phase in and out of my room with alarming regularity, bringing me news of Light's exploits with the notebook and telling me stories from previous notebook holders. By the end of his tale on an Egyptian prince I never wanted to hear the term Death Note again.

On Tuesday I was released with clear warnings not to do anything strenuous. The bill was paid for in the Yagami name, Sachiko telling me, as she picked Quinn and I up in a taxi in the morning, that she felt guilty over the whole thing. For me, Light's new friend and recent immigrant, to have moved here and been attacked so close to her own home was inexcusable. Quinn and I found ourselves seated at the dining room table, breakfast served and tea steaming.

"Quinn-san," she said, pouring him another cup, "how old are you?"

"Fourteen." He was inhaling the tea as though it was the first drink he'd had in months. I was almost insulted. He never drank more than one cup of my brew.

"You are in Daikoku?"

"Yes."

"Your sister mentioned to me you enjoy music." I had said nothing of the sort to anyone in this family except Light but I let it slide. At least I was now seeing where Light got his propensity to bend the truth from.

A few minutes into Sachiko's attempt to draw Quinn out of his shell by referencing obscure composers she remembered from her childhood years playing piano, I excused myself. Sachiko offered to help but I waved her off, doggedly making my way up the stairs to Light's room by myself with copious use of the handrail. Once I was in the den of the world's most mysterious serial killer, I fell onto the bed and passed out.

* * *

"Minerva. _Mi-neer-vaa-chaan~"_ I groaned and curled up tighter, clinging to the edges of deep sleep. A small hand pushed at my shoulder and I rolled over to stare at the face of Sayu, her brown hair down from its usual ponytail and tickling my nose.

"Sayu? What time is it?" She giggled and sat down.

"It's dinner time. Your brother is really cute."

I smiled and sat up, hugging myself to keep the cold at bay. "Don't tell him that. He hasn't let me call him cute since he was seven."

"Sayu!" Light called from down the hall. "Is she up yet?"

"Yeah, Light! Come on, Mum's cooked stir fry for your brother." She held out her hand and helped me out of the bed, frowning when she saw just how profound my limp was. "Does it still hurt?"

"A little. The doctor said it would be healed fully in a few weeks."

"Should you be walking?" I gave her a look. She giggled again. "You're not the type to stay in bed anyway, are you?"

"If I was in Canada right now Quinn would dragging me off my quad bike."

"You can drive a quad bike?" she asked excitedly as we entered the dining room. Soichiro was at the table, to my surprise. Sachiko had said he wasn't expected home until late.

"Evening, Yagami-san," I said, bowing my head in respect. Sayu passed me to Light who pulled out my chair and gently eased me in. Quinn looked on amusedly.

"Good evening, Minerva-san. It's good to see you out of the hospital."

"I couldn't stand the food. Sachiko's cooking is so much better."

"You flatter me, Minerva-chan. Feel free to start."

Light, at my right, piled my plate high with Quinn's favourite meal. My brother acted the part of the gentleman Granny Hiro had raised him to be by serving Sayu first before himself. As soon as he took a bite I knew I would need to get the recipe from Sachiko; his expression was nearing ecstasy.

Over the course of dinner I fell more and more in love with the Yagami family. Their easy conversation, the way they accepted Quinn and I as though we had been there all along and their ability to avoid awkward pauses endeared them to me in a way not many families did. Sayu kept it light hearted, Sachiko gave wise, loving comments when needed, Light teased his sister incessantly and Soichiro provided the heart of the conversation. If it wasn't for Ryuk in the corner I could have smiled the whole time.

Then the conversation took a decidedly darker turn onto the subject of Kira.

"Ugh, I hate him. Really," said Sayu. "He kills people!"

"Light, what do you think of him?" asked Soichiro, something in his eye telling me that he was testing his son. Light rose to the challenge in his masterful, lying by saying,

"He's acting the wrong way. If he wants to change something he has to do it in a way that everyone respects. Otherwise the justice system will attack him when they could possibly work alongside." Light ate another mouthful. I did too, to avoid stabbing a gaping hole in his statement.

"Hmm." Soichiro stared ahead, seeing nothing.

"Sir, I heard that L is working with the Japanese police force to apprehend Kira," said Light.

"Yes he is, but I can't talk about it further than that, Light. The case is classified."

"Of course." Silence followed, and I was about to speak just to lift the feeling of suffocation that was draping itself over my shoulders when Sayu piped up.

"Have you heard that Hideki Ryuga is doing a new show! He's so amazing," she gushed. Quinn snorted and suddenly he was dragged into an argument over the merits of television personalities. I watched with a grin as my brother tried to convince the stubborn girl that celebrities weren't all they were purported to be. Quinn hadn't been this animated in months.

"Minerva-chan, do you want to stay the night?" Sachiko asked quietly.

"Oh, don't worry. We can call a taxi. It's too much for me to impose myself on you so much."

"It's no trouble."

"Nevertheless, I would feel guilty if we did."

"Well, you can stay as long as you like," she said.

"You and your brother are always welcome here," Soichiro put in, a rare smile gracing his lips. My heart felt like it was expanding as I took their invitation to heart. I couldn't stop the large grin.

"Thank you to you both," I said sincerely. Soichiro muttered something and took another drink of his tea. Sachiko winked at me over the rim of her cup.

After dinner Sayu took it upon herself to show Quinn the wonder that is Hideki Ryuga by forcing him to sit through the first few episodes of her favourite show of the celebrity. He did so with only a token protest, I noted with a smirk. Seeing the two on the couch together, Sayu gesturing wildly as soon as her heartthrob appeared while Quinn stared at her in near shock, gave me the urge to draw the scene.

 _Where did I leave my bag . . . oh, Light's room. Great. More stairs._ With a deep breath, I limped over to the staircase and gazed into the dark hallway above. Suddenly the journey was a lot more daunting than it had been that morning.

"Do you need help?" asked Light, appearing at my shoulder. I bit back a sigh and let him loop an arm around my waist. Before I could stop him, though, he had me hoisted in the air, another arm beneath my knees, and was carrying me up the stairs with Ryuk following. A loud 'Awww' came from Sayu's direction.

Light kicked the door shut and dropped me on his bed. I stared up at his looming form, the twisted smile, the hands held carefully at his sides, and said,

"Your family is wonderful."

"They're expendable."

And like that, my joy was gone. I glared at him and leaned over the bed, groping for my bag. He kicked it out of reach.

"Are we doing power plays now?" I asked flatly.

"If I have to. Tell me what you know about L."

"No."

"Minerva . . ."

I held up a hand. "I have one demand, Light Yagami. One. Leave me and Quinn and your family out of it. Your father, I get that he's working on the case so that can't be avoided, but Sachiko and Sayu don't need to be involved. They are innocents. Quinn is innocent. And I . . . I've already seen too many horrible things to want to go through more. So keep the Death Note out of my sight, never mention Kira around me and I will stay. I won't put up a fuss, I won't nag, I won't push my own morals on you. Just leave me out of it."

"What about Ryuk?" The Shinigami waved a clawed hand. I turned to the creature.

"What can you do to me?"

"Huh?" said Ryuk.

"What can you do to me? Can you hurt me physically? Apart from writing my name down in your notebook what is within your capabilities?"

He cackled. "I'm not going to do anything to you. You're too interesting."

I gave him a measuring look, and decided to take his words as a compliment. "Thanks."

"Besides, Light wouldn't let me do anything to you anyway." This time it was Light's turn to glare, skewering the Shinigami with such a look that the breath was stolen from my lungs. Wisely, Ryuk got up and floated away, leaving us alone. Light sat on his bed, so still it was hard to imagine he was anything but a statue.

I considered him. I considered this boy, who was nearly a year my junior according to Sayu, and what went on inside his mind? What drove him to such lengths that he would be willing to kill to create a perfect world, to put himself on a pedestal that would undoubtedly end in a hard, painful fall from power? Would it be possible to turn him from this path, to turn him away from the allure of Kira?

Bright red eyes flickered in my mind's eye, the cold of the steel knife in my throat chilling me to the bone.

 _Stay out of it,_ I told myself. _Anything to do with Kira will lead to ruin. Ignore it. Don't involve yourself and L won't involve himself in you._ After all, that was what terrified me almost more than Light right now. The possibility of L finding out where I was.

* * *

"Oh, Minerva-chan? I was wondering if you and your brother would like to join us for the opera on the 28th of January? It's the first time in years Madame Butterfly is being performed and I have been wanting to see it." Sachiko smiled from the doorway as Quinn and I headed to Soichiro's waiting car. We shared a look. Within Quinn's eyes flickered interest, tempered by the nervousness of a night out with people he didn't know well in a still-foreign city. For once I decided not to humour his anxiety.

"Of course, Sachiko. We would love to." Quinn's expression distorted into shock. I smiled, bowed slightly to Light's mother, and grabbed my brother's hand. He stumbled along behind as I towed him to the car. Light was sitting in the passenger seat. Ryuk, again, followed along, jumping from streetlamp to streetlamp like a demented urban monkey. As soon as Quinn and I got back to the apartment, we collapsed on the couch, exhausted for entirely different reasons.

"Sayu scares me," said Quinn.

"They all scare me," I replied. "But at least they're better than Mello."

"That's true." Quinn curled up, pressing himself into my side and falling asleep in seconds. With a groan I picked him up and carried him to his bed, my leg screaming in protest. Settling him beneath his sheets, I brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and planted a kiss on his forehead.

 _My sweet, sweet baby brother. Please, God, let him not get mixed up in all this._

A chill down my spine told me that my prayer may not be answered in the way I'd like.

* * *

Friday December 12th. Light invited me over under the guise of study, which his family immediately assumed was a cover for us to spend time alone together. That would have been preferable. Instead he showed me the set up in his desk for the security of the Death Note. I wondered why, and seeing no reason not to, I asked him.

"So you can burn it in the case I am not around."

"Leave me out of this, Light. I said I don't want to be a part of this."

He took my hand, pulling me too close for comfort. "I just need to know that if I'm in trouble, this won't be a problem. You're my last line of defence." My fingers twitched in his with the barely repressed urge to slap him and his manipulation. Instead I nodded. He smiled.

"Sayu wanted me to draw her again." I pulled away and went downstairs, both confused and worried about the way a part of me wanted to stay next to him, his warm fingers laced through mine. Shaking my head, I greeted Sayu and Sachiko and took out my art supplies.

On the news the reporters spoke of Kira's new mode of killing on the hour. Sachiko clicked her tongue and turned off the television, muttering to herself about the insanity of the killer. For some reason, I couldn't find it within myself to agree.

* * *

On Sunday I was called down to the lobby to meet my guests. Light and Sayu stood by the reception desk, the bored receptionist eyeing Sayu speculatively when Light wasn't looking. I vowed to mention something to his girlfriend next time she showed up.

"Minerva-chan!" Sayu cried, bounding over to hug me.

"Hey," I replied, nodding at Light over her head. He nodded back and we rode up to the apartment.

"It's a nice building," he commented.

"It was the safety features that interested Quinn and I. Some of the best in Tokyo, from what I can tell."

"Really?"

"Uh huh."

"Hey, Quinn!" Sayu ran out of the lift as soon as the doors opened, rushing to meet my brother on the couch and gaping at the view from the windows. I left Light to examine the kitchen and the living room, wandering over to the nearby easel where my latest painting was set up. _Mr Pinstripe Man_ was written on a post-it note and stuck to the easel's tripod. The picture itself was dark, of a man under the cover of night, standing alone in the glow of a streetlight holding his hat low over his eyes, one foot pressed on the carved green metal of the pole. His suit was of the darkest blue I could find, offsetting the bright copper hair just visible in the shadows cast by the hat.

"Is that . . . me?" Light asked, coming up behind me. I quickly threw a spare painting shirt over it, hiding Light's likeness from view.

"Don't we have studying to do?" I asked him, heading to my room to grab my study gear. He followed and leant on my doorframe. I picked my way through the mess of sketchbooks, pencils and water-based paints to my school bag on the barely-visible bed.

"How do you sleep in here?"

"Very carefully. It stops me from sleepwalking, at least."

"Do you sleepwalk?"

"Not anymore."

"Did you stop for the same reason your nightmares did?" I froze, Japanese textbook in hand. Glancing around, I saw Light shut the door with a quiet _snick._

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly.

"You used to have nightmares. You said it before. So," he stepped forwards. "What stopped them?"

I straightened up, walked right up to him, and said, "Why do you even care?" To my delight, he hesitated for a moment. A single second but it was more than enough to have triumph welling in my chest. He recovered easily.

"You're my friend. Shouldn't friends be concerned when they learn their friends suffered from nightmares and still have them occasionally?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Whacking his shoulder like I would Quinn, I walked out the door, saying, "If you want that line to work, try not to sound so unsure. Someone would mistake you for friendless." I shot him a grin over my shoulder.

"So, kiddos," I said to Sayu and Quinn when I reached the living room. "Who needs to study what?"

Hours later, as the younger two put away the dishes from dinner – jambalaya; I decided to branch out – I asked Light something I'd been mulling over for the past few days.

"Would your family like to come over for Christmas dinner?"

"Of course." He raised his eyebrows in a non-verbal question.

"I've had a large family Christmas dinner for past two years," I explained. "It wouldn't be fair on Quinn to not take an opportunity to continue the tradition if possible."

"Not fair on Quinn?"

 _Sigh_. "Stop trying to analyse everything, Light Yagami. Not everything is so layered." I got up and went over to the covered painting, tugging off the shirt. "Sometimes people just act on a whim."

* * *

Perhaps I should have seen something coming that morning. To be woken with a phone call, having never been called by Light before, should have warned me to be on my guard. I was, to some extent, but not nearly enough. Definitely not enough.

The high pitched ring broke the quiet of my room and I rolled over, pushing over several boxes of pencils as I did so. I groped for my phone, almost knocked it to the ground, and flipped it open without checking the caller ID.

"Yeah?"

"Minerva? I was wondering if you were free today."

Instantly, I sat up, swallowing. "No . . . why?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to come to Space Land with me."

* * *

TOWRTA: Not sure how pleased I am with this scene. Not sure how please I am with this story in general. After all, I wrote the plot a number of years ago and have improved since then so we'll just have to see if I can make it better. At least I have a couple of name drops in here, ehehe.

Thanks to my reviewers and everyone who followed and favourited. You are the ones who make me keep writing!

Next time: Raye Penber and Kiichiro Osoreda. How will Minerva react to watching Light kill in front of her?

Review if you wish. It may get the next chapter out faster, hint hint.

 _28.08.15: slight edit. Just changed the wording of the last section to get it to fit with the next chapter better._

 _Oh, and is anyone else having issues with the viewer count for their stories?_


	6. Bus

Chapter Five

I had been walking to Light's house on the eighteenth, after being held back after art to discuss the possibility of extra tutoring sessions with students. I'd told Miss Hisashi that I would think about it, what with having to take care of Quinn and study requirements. Then she'd offered to bring my paintings to the attention of her sister who owned an art gallery. I'd looked back at _Mr Pinstripe Man._ The decision had been harder to make than I thought it would be.

"The extra money would be helpful. I've never had my paintings sold before . . ."

"Tell me what you think. I could take a picture and send it to her for confirmation while you decide," Miss Hisashi had said, all smiles.

"Thanks, Hisashi-sensei." I was getting the hang of this whole honorifics thing.

* * *

 _Hah. I think about that moment now and I wonder if letting Miss Hisashi's sister display the painting front and centre was what had truly interested L, or Penber's notes. Perhaps I shall ask him._

 _Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself._

 _Still, I wonder if saying no would have made much of a difference._

* * *

It was cold on the way to Light's house. My leather jacket and school uniform were hardly warm enough to combat the ever encroaching winter that could be seen in the frost in the mornings and the condensation on our school windows. According to Kuroda, Principal Asashi refused to turn on the heating until January. Another thirteen days to go. And only seven until Christmas. Four until winter break.

As I was thinking about the approaching days, I managed to slam into someone as I turned onto the junction outside Light's house.

"Oh, sorry!" I said, jerking back in surprise. He turned around, something like alarm written in his astoundingly blue eyes.

"No, that's my fault," he replied, his voice deep. "I didn't hear you coming."

I smiled, and found myself saying, "Result of many years hunting. The snapping of a twig is a lot louder to prey than it is to us."

"I can only imagine. Have a good evening, miss." He nodded politely and walked away, his footsteps near silent as well on the hard pavement. I frowned at his back until he was out of sight around the corner. Weird. The hairs rose on the back of my neck, instinct telling me that something strange was happening.

 _Perhaps I will get a ride home tonight,_ I thought, continuing to Light's house to present Sayu with the finished, coloured painting of her.

"Do you want to say hello to Light while you're here?" asked Sachiko from the kitchen. I paused a moment, listening to Ryuk's cackling from above.

"No, that's alright. I will see him tomorrow at school. Thanks for having me."

I bumped into Soichiro on the way out, his face haggard and stark white in contrast to his dark moustache. "Oh, Minerva-san," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Giving Sayu the portrait I promised her. How are you, Yagami-san?"

"Fine. I suppose you'll want a ride home, won't you? Just give me a minute." He went inside for a moment and came back without his briefcase, a different jacket around his shoulders.

The ride to the apartment was filled with the silence of exhaustion. I had already gathered from Light that his father was working the Kira case, and I couldn't help but feel intense pity for the man. How hard would it be for him once he finally discovers to true identity of his enemy? Would his son's disloyalty break him?

"How is work?" I asked quietly. Soichiro gave me a measuring look out the corner of his eye.

"Difficult. But everything comes with challenges," he replied, equally as quiet.

"Isn't that the truth," I murmured. I spared a single glance at the painting at my feet.

* * *

Friday night. Bland conversation during the day, peppered only with brief bursts of Kuroda's infectious happiness and Ayako wishing me a good holidays and expressing a hope of meeting up. Mikoto had heard and jumped at the idea. Nozomi's smile had been cold. Ever since learning of my marks on the national exam and closeness to Light there had been a wall, one I'd put no effort into breaking down.

Now I was in my room, putting the finishing touches on _Mr Pinstripe Man_ while listening to one of Quinn's half-symphonies from a few years ago. It was my favourite, composed just after moving to Canada. The pain, heatbreak and confusion contained within the roaring melodies explained my life to a T.

Of course Ryuk had the impecable timing to come in just as I was doing a headstand to check the shadowing and make sure it didn't seem as though Light was floating on the surface of the Earth rather than planted firmly. Granted it could have been easier to turn the image over but being an painter left little time for any fun aeorbics.

"What are you doing?"

I stifled a scream, falling flat on my face. To a chorus of hysterical laughter I righted myself and glared at the death god and his jangling heart earring.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Saying hi."

"Did Light send you?"

"You're not being very nice."

"Sorry," I said sarcastically, picking myself up from amongst the crumpled papers and pencils littering my floor. "It's a little hard to be nice when I have an uninvited, _creepy_ , guest."

"Mean." He stuck out his tongue. It was black and shrivelled and disgusting. I flinched in horror which set him off again.

I fell onto my bed with a nervous glance at the door. If Quinn came in and saw me talking to an 'imaginary friend' I would be in serious trouble. "What are you doing here?" I asked again in a hushed tone.

"Didn't I say I'm here to say hi?"

"What else?"

He gave a rattling sigh and flopped onto the bed next to me. "You're just like Light. No respect."

I shuffled away slightly. "It's hard to respect someone who dresses like a punk rocker, wears an earring in the shape of a heart and is obsessed with apples."

Ryuk perked up. "Do you have any?"

"No."

"Oh."

"You didn't answer my question."

Ryuk groaned and floated away, phasing through my door. I leapt up and threw open the door hurriedly to see a glimpse of black spikes disappearing around the corner. Too afraid to say a word, I hurried to the living room. Quinn was seated in front of the television, watching a neo noir film full of shadows and men in fedoras.

Ryuk was reaching for the fridge handle. With a gasp, I dove for him and tore it open, grabbing one of the apples inside. Holding it up in plain view, I slammed the fridge door shut.

"You told me you didn't have any," he said accusingly. I opened my mouth to reply.

"V?" My mouth snapped shut. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Don't worry. Go back to your movie." With an awkward wave, I strode out of the room as quickly as I could and hid in my room, shutting the door and cutting Ryuk's head in half. I scowled when he just phased in as though nothing had happened.

"Stay away from my brother," I hissed.

"Sure, if you give me the apple." He made to grab for it but I danced out of the way, holding it behind my back.

" _No._ Promise me you won't touch him. I know Light's word is worth nothing but _you_ have to have some honour as a Shinigami. Tell me you won't do anything to him again. He doesn't need a personal poltergeist on top of everything else."

Ryuk's expression somehow fell into something other than a smile. His lips twisted awkwardly over his sharp, protuding teeth into the parody of a frown. "Shinigami have no honour," he said.

Intriguied, I tossed to apple over and sat down on the bed once more, gesturing for him to continue.

So I was treated to the story of the Shinigami. An explanation of their land, of their world, of their fall into gambling, sleeping and talking of the same things for ever, as though time for them was nothing but one massive loop. With each question I asked and each comment he seemed to grow more enthused, even going so far as to gesture on occasion as opposed to leaving his hands hanging by his sides.

"There's a shinigami with _diamonds_ as eyes?" I asked incredulously.

"His skull's made of gold. His name's Othar. Real pain in the butt."

By this point I was leaning forwards, entranced by this disturbing, broken society of beings of twisted, pointless power.

"So why do you think you were created."

"No idea. I don't think even the king himself knows. We just exist."

"Huh," I muttered, mind racing to connect the dots. Granny Hiro's teachings came to mind, and I wondered if the Shinigami were a failed creation, made by the Enemy but ultimately doomed as everything of evil is. "So you keep living by killing off human beings? What possible path is there in that? Can you save people's lives?"

"Not directly, otherwise we –" Ryuk stopped, his eyes growing impossibly wider. My mouth dropped open.

"Otherwise you die," I said. Ryuk remained silent. "I see. Don't worry, I won't tell Light. There's no telling what he'd do with that information." After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I asked again, "Why did you come here?"

"I, uh, wanted to tell you that Light's being followed," he said quickly.

"By a guy with blue eyes?"

"How'd you know?"

"Bumped into him outside Light's house yesterday. He had a slight American accent but his Japanese was excellent though. Why is he being followed?"

"Light thinks L is investigating the police and people close to them."

A blank wall slammed down on my thoughts. This was happening too fast. _Way_ too fast. Oh gosh. No. L couldn't know. He couldn't. I can't go back _there._ Back to Mello and BB and Near and _everyone_ and _everything_ and oh gosh no.

"Leave," I hissed to Ryuk. When he didn't move I picked up a paintbrush and threw it at him. " _LEAVE_!" He disappeared, the paintbrush clattering harmlessly on the floor. I collapsed to my knees and tried desperately not to cry.

* * *

The morning dawned bright and cold, with a clear sky but a wicked wind whipping through the city with a vengeance, sending rubbish swirling about the ankles of the morning walkers. After school I waited by the bus stop between our houses, clenching and unclenching my fists in an effort to keep my fingers from losing all feeling. A call had me snapping my gaze away from the group of school children across the road enjoying the repreive from overcast, rainy weather.

"Minerva!" Light was walking towards me, Ryuk at his side. I gave them a small nod, observing Light as he closed his eyes and talked to his personal death god under his breath. How he managed to do that without ramming into a pole or falling off the sidewalk eluded me.

I was about to smile when I saw Light's followed appear behind Light, appearing for all the world the casual tourist. A thought occurred to me. A wicked, angry thought that felt completely justified in Light bringing me into Kira business _again._

So as soon as Light was close enough I let my expression turn ugly. "You are a real piece of work, you know that?" His eyes narrowed. The stalker was within earshot. Perfect. "You couldn't even say you're sorry. No, instead you call me out here on some sort of apology trip as though that will fix everything. Fine. I'll play along. I'll say I forgive you for cheating. But remember how you always tell me that an action speaks a thousand words? Here's mine."

And with that I reeled my arm back and slapped him as hard as I could, a satisfying _smack_ resounding through the street. Everyone within forty feet stopped and turned to watch as I crossed my arms, walked a few metres away and leaned on a lamppost, looking every inch the angry girlfriend. Ryuk was beside himself as Light massaged his jaw, a bright red handprint on his left cheek. He played his part masterfully, _not_ raising an eyebrow like I could see him wanting to and instead swallowing his pride and crossing his arms.

The bus came. Light came up behind me, his hand touching my lower back. I glared at him and pulled away to pay the fare to Space Land, a theme park around an hour's ride from Light's house. I must have had such a ghastly expression on me that the bus driver fell compelled to say something, as he asked, "Are you alright, ma'am?" I blinked, forced a smile on my face, and handed over the money.

"I'm fine. Nothing that can't be fixed." With that I gave Light a scathing look and strode down the aisle to one of the back seats, sliding in and staring fixedly out the window. I only noticed my mistake when Light slid in beside me, Light's stalker behind and Ryuk a hulking menace in the aisle. I was trapped.

"Quite a show," Light murmured in my ear. "What's the occasion?"

"Being dragged into this mess when I told you _not_ to involve me is more than enough for a slap, don't you think?" I smiled brightly and immediately turned back to the window. Light let out a breath of air and gently threaded his gloved fingers within mine. The soft cotton felt strange against my skin.

So I was stuck like that for at least twenty minutes, only an elderly couple, a younger girl and her boyfriend and the stalker as the other passengers. The scenery rolled past, gaps in the cityscape showing the tree-covered mountains in the distance. Tiny glimpses of what I'd left behind in Canada. A wave of homesickness hit me and I gripped Light's hand harder, furiously holding back tears.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. I nodded and pressed my forehead on the glass. It fogged up with my breath.

The bus stopped and let on a hunched man with a crazed look in his eyes. Light's fingers flexed. I was on red alert instantly, shifting closer to the bronze-haired boy to get a better view.

Then the guy pulled out a gun, the driver cried out in alarm and the man shouted, "Stay in your seats unless you want to die!"

 _Oh you've_ got _to be kidding me._

The man went on threatening us and the driver for a moment as Light took out a piece of paper and scribbled on it. Just as the driver was asking for someone to come out of Space Land with a box of money Light held out the note in front of me.

 _Don't be scared. As soon as he turns around, I'm gonna grab the gun out of his hand._

I was about to tell him the effectiveness of _that_ when low and behold, Mr Stalker interrupted.

"Don't be stupid. That's risky," he said. "If it comes to that I'll take care of it. It's okay." Light started writing again. "We don't have to pass notes back and forth. As long as we keep it down he won't be able to hear our voices over the sound of the engine."

"Do you have any proof that you are not his accomplice? Why should we trust you?"

Oddly enough, it was the _we_ of that sentence that got to me more than Light's obvious manipulation of the situation. He had to know from Ryuk that this was the guy following him. This must have been some sort of plot to get his name. Only Light would be dramatic enough to use a bus hijacking to get it.

Playing along, I said, "Accomplice? Really?" barely able to keep the sarcasm from my voice. Light continued with his preplanned speech and the man ended up handing over his wallet, the name Raye Penber and FBI emblazoned across his ID.

Wow. FBI. L was really pulling out the big guns for this, wasn't he?

Light knocked a piece of paper out of his pocket a few seconds later. As he bent to grab it the junkie came up, snatching it before Light could get to it. He tossed it to the side with only a cursory glance, walked down the aisle then stopped suddenly as we went beneath a tunnel. His shoulder started to shake as he twisted around, eyes bulging in fear and gun up.

"W-who the hell are you?" he cried. "You in the very back! What do you think you're doing? Don't mess with me. How long have you been back there!?"

"What's this?" asked Ryuk. "You are talking to me?" It only got worse from there. Raye shouted for us to get down and Light put a protective arm around my shoulders. Only I could see the gleam in his eyes as his plan worked to perfection. I flinched in shock as the man shot off several rounds into Ryuk, the bullets passing leaving ripples in his body as they passed through and shattered the back window. I was wrong. There was something immensely scary about seeing Ryuk's immortality up close and personal. It had never really occurred to me just how unnatural he truly was. Watching the man go crazy as his weapon of blood and death was reduced to little more than a banging toy in the face of the Shinigami slapped me face first with the true nature of the death god.

"Stop the bus!" The driver applied the breaks, the hijacker raced out of the door and was promptly hit by a car. I covered my mouth, closing my eyes as tightly as I could.

 _Breathe. Breathe._

"Hey, it's alright. He's gone." Was it only me who could hear the giddy note in his voice? That strain of triumph underlying every look, every word, every movement? How was it possible for him to be so proud of something that resulted in death?

Light got up and moved towards the front of the bus, leaving me sitting there shell-shocked. The second death I'd seen up close and personal since meeting Light Yagami. How many more would there be?

"Miss? Are you well? We should get off the bus," said Raye Penber, waiting by my seat. I accepted his hand and allowed him to help me to the driver's seat. There he excused himself and got into conversation with Light just outside the door.

"Ma'am?"

"Oh, sorry." I moved aside for the bus driver. He was a thin man, with a pale face, eyes too large for his head and shadowed by his blue cap. He gave me an approximation of a smile.

"I hope you're alright. That must have been terrifying."

"It's you who was the one in the most danger. Well done for keeping your cool," I said, which was partially true. I mean, he could have totally lost his nerve and driven us off the road.

He gave a nervous laugh. "Yes, well, I need to talk to the police." He left and Light held out a hand for me to come down. Now I was grateful for his gloves. Raye Penber was running down the street, with a head full of knowledge about Light and I just waiting to be reported back to L.

* * *

We got to his home, not telling Sachiko or Sayu of what had happened. They didn't need another worry on top of Kira and Soichiro.

Light showed me what he'd written in the Death Note as soon as we were in his room. He told me his plan not to kill Penber for another week. I listened with Ryuk and wondered how long until he would be planning my death in the same way, doubtlessly believing me to be a liability and therefore worthless to his cause.

Maybe L would find me before then. Who knows.

 _God, if you exist, help me. Please. I don't want to die._

* * *

 _I sold that painting, by the way. Miss Hisashi told me an elderly man with a British accent had purchased it within two days of it being displayed. Any guesses who that was?_

* * *

TOWRTA: Well, hello. I have a question: is anyone else's stories displaying a zero view count since about Monday? Mine is, and I _know_ people are reading it considering I've had new favouriters and followers since then.

Also, thank you to everyone who did favourite and follow. I prefer reviews though. It would be nice to hear from my readers. What do you want to happen next?

Next Time: L!

Review if you wish.


	7. Christmas

Chapter Six

"Ah, Sachiko, Yagami-san, come in. Sayu and Light are already here," I said. The receptionist gave me a wink as he pressed the button for the lobby and the elevator doors closed. Soichiro and Sachiko walked in, presents in their arms, their gazes drawn to the large windows that framed their children with the lights of nighttime Tokyo.

"Thank you, Minerva-san," said Soichiro as I took his coat. Sachiko thanked me also and immediately inspected the kitchen. A roast chicken was in the oven, surrounded by potatoes and pumpkin. Mince pies were cooling on the stovetop and a basket of freshly made buns waited on the dining table. Sayu and Quinn were gaming together as Light flicked through my sketchbook of last year. To my dismay, I hadn't been able to find a tree in time and the room felt bare of decoration. I only hoped the stack of presents by the windows, small though it was, was enough to give the festive air I'd enjoyed in Canada.

For once Ryuk wasn't there. Light must have bribed him with a year's supply of apples to get him to stay away.

Sayu, upon seeing her parents, jumped up. "Mum! Dad! Isn't Quinn's house cool?"

"It's lovely, Minerva-chan," Sachiko complimented. "How long have you two been here?"

"Little over a month. Sayu, why don't you give your parents a tour while the boys help me set the table?" Sayu nodded happily and beckoned her parents further into the apartment, towards the bedrooms, bathroom and the large open space we had yet to find a use for at the end of the corridor.

"Here, I'll get it." Suddenly Light was there, bending down and taking the dish towel out of my hands to remove the chicken. I stepped back quickly and set the rest of the table, keeping as far away from him as I could. I still couldn't find the will to be in his presence alone after my revelation of L's imminent discovery of my being in Japan. It caused a resentment for the boy who'd triggered all this to well within my stomach. Though in some ways unfair on him (though definitely not uncalled for in others), I had not spoken a word to him beyond 'hello, how are you?' since Saturday.

"Minerva-san, what do you have planned for that back area?" asked Soichiro. And like that the tension in me was broken and Christmas dinner commenced. We discussed the opera and school grades and conversation stayed pleasantly Kira-free.

Presents came next, with a comment of, "We've hardly ever had a Christmas like this!" from Sayu as she eagerly ripped apart the wrapping on a new scarf from Quinn, who had heard her sighing over it a few days ago. She squealed and tackled him with a hug, much to the mixed amusement and consternation of her parents. I just laughed along with Light. Quinn looked terrified yet pleased. She received another portrait from me, painted to the best of my ability in the short timeframe I had. It was a snapshot of her spinning in the rain last week. She gasped, her mouth hanging open.

"When was this?" she asked.

"Last Wednesday, after school."

"Did you take a picture?"

"Don't need to," I said, tapping my temple. Light's gaze immediately sharpened. _Damn._

Other than that, she got a box set of her favourite Hideki Ryuga show from Light, a new drawing set from Sachiko – "maybe Minerva-chan can teach you" – and a comfortable, expensive coat from her father that matched the new scarf. To all of them she gave a large hug in return and her presents. A pen for Light, a sketchbook for me, hats for her parents and, finally, a new iPod for Quinn.

"Yours is the older model," she said shyly. "This one has more space and it . . . I thought you might like the colour." It was blue, bright blue, the exact shade of his eyes. A blush started to curl up his neck. To save Quinn from embarrassment I hastily handed around our presents to the rest Yagami family.

For Sachiko, more wool and knitting patterns and a large sketched portrait of her family on the table. For Soichiro, a new pair of gloves and a moustache comb. At his raised eyebrow I pointed at Quinn who pretended to be very invested in his new iPod. And then it was Light's turn.

Quinn had made him a playlist of all the songs he determined suited Light's new 'rhythm'. Apparently we found muses in the same places. I handed over the compilation of all my in-class doodles I'd made of him. Which included the Kettle Head flip-art. His laugh was undercut with a sense of interest that I knew only I heard.

The rest of the presents were passed around, Quinn and I explaining we saved the ones for each other for later, and then the obligatory conversation that lasted until late was over. Soichiro and Sachiko left, taking Sayu with them while Light said he would hang around a little while longer.

"Light, I think Minerva-chan has had quite enough of us by now," Sachiko scolded. Light turned to me. I swallowed.

"It's alright, Sachiko-san. We need to discuss a project at school," I said easily. "Light here has been so busy that we haven't been able to yet." I punched him in the shoulder, slightly harder than was necessary.

"Well, alright. If you're sure," she said slowly.

"It's fine! You better get Sayu home. She looks dead on her feet." The fifteen-year-old was swathed in her coat and scarf, clutching her other presents to her chest like they were lifelines. She smiled sleepily and snuggled a little further into her father's shoulder.

"Night, Quinn, Minerva-chan." She waved.

"Good night," said Quinn, standing at my shoulder.

"We'll see you sometime soon," I promised.

"I'll be home shortly."

Sachiko gave Light one last searching look before joining her family in the elevator and pressing the button for the lobby.

"Bye!" Sayu called just as the door shut. A few seconds passed. Then I grabbed Quinn around the shoulders.

"She likes you, you know?" I grinned, ruffling his hair. He squirmed out of my grip like an eel.

"So? You and . . ." he trailed off, glancing from Light to me. Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into his room with barely a "g'night".

And then only two remained. The kitchen felt much to crowded all of a sudden.

 _I don't want to die._

"How long have you had photographic memory?" he asked abruptly.

"It comes and goes," I hedged.

"Then when did it last start?"

"Well . . ." His stare turned piercing. "On the 28th. The very first day I was at Daikoku." I couldn't help but mutter, "More of a curse than a blessing really."

He heard "Why?"

"Nothing I will tell you." That just made his expression turn darker. Desperate for intervention, I glanced around. "So . . ." I started, edging my way out of the kitchen. His gaze followed me like a hawk. "Why am I lying to your mother for you?"

Suddenly he was there, pulling me onto the couch. He loomed above me. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I'm sick of being stuck in the middle of your game of God. I refused to be a part of it and next thing I know I'm watching a man shooting at Ryuk and getting hit by a car. That does _not_ sound like leaving me out of it."

A cold smirk flickered over his mouth, Kira replacing the warm façade of Light that had been there for the evening so far. "I never promised you I would."

I stared into his face and found nothing there. No hope of my pleas ever getting through, no chance of him reconsidering his actions. He was Kira and he was Light and they were quickly merging into one and the same and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Something in me twinged painfully at the thought of never seeing Light's smile again without the shadow of Kira in the depths of his eyes.

 _When did I get this attached?_ I wondered, still not dropping his gaze. _What will I do if my new muse disappears?_

"Minerva?" he said, leaning closer. On instinct I reached up and placed my hands on his face, framing it; capturing that second of Light Yagami that had appeared. Surprised, he knelt down, allowing me easier access to him.

I traced the tilt of his jaw, the line of his nose, the depth of his eyes, the curve of his mouth. Eyebrows raised in question, breath slightly faster than normal.

"Say something."

He hesitated for a fraction of an instant. "That drawing of the kettle? Did you draw that the first day you came to school?" My eyes fluttered closed, listening to that sound of velvet I'd been enthralled by what seemed an age ago. It was colder than what I remembered but still him. Still the boy I had been fascinated with. He was in there somewhere, and I imagined he was waiting for a different calling to come his way, something that led to a path with the sun shining down from above rather than into the depths of the shadowy realm of immorality.

A sob caught in my chest and I leaned forwards, pressing my forehead against his.

"What has happened to you, Light Yagami?" I whispered. He inhaled sharply but didn't move. Gently, slowly, I felt his hands come up to hold me about my waist. I don't remember how long we stayed like that but I do remember the heartache of a lost soul stabbing me in the heart with every pulse.

When he left that night I slipped into Quinn's room and slept on his bed as we had for every Christmas we'd known each other. He curled into my side. Our present to each other. A reminder that even if the world was falling apart, we still had each other.

* * *

Winter vacation started and with it came more rain, more wind and freezing temperatures. Quinn hid in his room with no desire to leave, composing even more intensely than before. I smiled as I walked past and heard what was definitely a love song weaving through the crack in his open door. Maybe more than one Yagami sibling would receive a playlist made by my brother.

"I'm going to see Light. Do you want to come?" I asked. I heard a grunt of dissent and left, taking naught but my phone and spare notebook and pencil. My adventure with the biker gang had shown me how annoying it was to run for your life while carrying bag. I wasn't taking any chances anymore.

The walk to his house helped clear my head. Ryuk had been visiting more often of late, bringing no news but being an overall pest. All I could get out of him was that Light wasn't spending any time studying lately; all his focus was devoted to the Death Note and how to cover his tracks. Other than that the Shinigami was silent.

Sachiko told me that Light had just gone out to bring a change of clothes to his father who had been working very long hours more often recently. I nodded and ruffled Sayu's hair like she was Quinn on my way out.

It has started snowing, a change from the freezing yet dry weather we'd had since Christmas. From what I heard it hardly snowed at all in Tokyo so this was a rare treat for the holiday. Only seven days of winter break left. A wave of depression hit me that I'd never experienced. Was this what normal students felt when thinking about the inevitability of school?

It wasn't long until I reached my destination at the police station. The most obvious thing was the hulking creature hovering at the front desk, unseen by all but one other. Light was talking to a woman dressed all in black. I caught him mid-speech.

"Besides, I feel like I can trust her. You can almost see it in her eyes. She's a wise and careful person." At this I had to walk back outside, hand slapped across my mouth to keep the laughter from bubbling over. Was he serious? Did he actually talk to people this way or was this a result of dramatism brought on by the notebook?

"Wait, excuse me!" I turned around in surprise and saw the woman leaving the building, Light close on her heels. He looked just as confused as I felt and more than a little suspicious.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, you're probably busy, but I was wondering if you could answer a few questions." Without waiting for a reply, she barrelled on. "You were on the bus to Space Land on Saturday the twentieth of December, right? When Kiichiro Osoreda died?"

Western naming structure, I noted. And an American accent. Oh no. Raye Penber. I glanced down at her hands and saw the bulge of a ring under her glove on her fourth finger. _Of all the luck in the world –_

"I'm sorry, what's this about?" I said politely, trying not to glare very pointedly at Light. His expression was a blank slate.

"I was wondering if you could tell me who else was on the bus?"

"What's this for?" Light interjected, stepping up.

"Oh, well," she looked between us hesitantly. Something in her face was changing into an expression I really didn't like. It was too close to Light's when he worked out yet another trick of the Death Note. "I'm just investigating . . ."

"You said you had information about the Kira case, right?"

"Yes, I may have discovered something." She bit her lip. I decided to save myself and her.

"Well, I'm sorry but I can't help you. I wasn't on that bus. You must have me confused with someone else. Have a good day." I nodded to her and to Light, acting as though I had never seen him in my life, and walked away. I brutally tried to shove down the part of me that was cheering for Light to deal with her Kira-style. I really, _really_ did not want to be involved on a police-scale level in this fiasco.

I wondered what she'd discovered though, and how she'd managed to link me to the bus incident. She must have talked to the bus driver who would have recalled me from the few seconds of interaction between us. Maybe he'd managed to remember Light too by association, which would mean Light would have a lot harder time getting her to give out her name than he would like. Any woman who had decided to investigate Kira and started with something as insignificant as the bus-jacking had to be on high alert.

Mind in the clouds, I almost didn't notice when I was centimetres away from crashing into a parked black Mercedes. Jumping back, I looked around and found that I was in some part of Tokyo I hadn't been before. Massively tall businesses towered above, backed by a gunmetal sky.

"Miss Minerva, if you'd like to step inside."

Oh so slowly, I rotated on the spot and saw a man who I had hoped I'd left far behind standing at the open passenger door of the Mercedes. An elderly man in a suit and tie who I would bet my right hand had been the one to buy my _Mr Pinstripe Man._

"Miss Minerva, I must insist," he said. British accent too.

"And what if I don't?"

"I'm sure neither of us wants to consider that possibility."

"I don't know," I mused, looking down the road where I could see an afro-sporting man with an umbrella walking towards us. "Do you think he would help me if I screamed rape?"

Watari sighed. "Miss Minerva, please. He's waiting to speak with you."

"I'll bet he is." I sat in the offered seat. Watari started the car just as the man with the umbrella levelled with the automobile.

* * *

"This way, Miss Minerva," said Watari, showing me through the entrance and into a side-room off the main sitting room. I barely caught a glimpse of a group of men seated around a low wooden table. One of them was Soichiro, and another . . .

"Wait here, if you please." Watari nodded and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him. In his absence I examined the room. It was what appeared to be an office, but stripped of all furniture so on the wooden floor sat only two speakers, a microphone and a laptop. Floor to ceiling windows took up the far wall, giving a panoramic view of Tokyo in the snow. It was in the wallpaper that I saw the true value of the hotel suite; pale cream curlicues wound their way up the walls, delicate and fine and expensive. In the subtlety the five star opulence of the hotel was boasted.

"Only the best for you, L," I murmured in English. "Never could deal with having less than what you could afford, could you?"

"This is my holiday." The person spoke in English too.

I whirled around and stepped back. That messy black hair, bruised eyes, dark pupils so dilated the iris was only a rim of grey. Even the white shirt and jeans. None of it had changed, only now one person wore the outfit instead of two. I suppressed a shudder.

"Pretty dangerous place for a holiday," I commented. He took a step further into the room. If I wasn't mistaken, his slouch had gotten worse.

"You have grown, Valerie."

I flinched. "That's not my name anymore. And I thought you didn't have time for such inane comments."

"I'm trying to put you at ease."

"You failed from the moment you came here."

"I see."

Frustration built up within me. His face was just like Light's was becoming: a near perfect blank slate that was so hard for me to read. Only L's was even better; he'd had a few more years to perfect it.

"Why am I here, L? We ran, we left, we never wanted to go back. I still don't. So why _bring me here_?" I demanded. L cocked his head, something in the gesture suggesting that I should have found the reason obvious. He sighed and walked further into the room, me backing up until there was nowhere to go but on top of his computer. The door was shut. How had I not noticed it opening?

"Why are you in Japan, Valerie?"

"Don't I at least deserve a chair for an interrogation?" He gestured to the floor. I gracefully declined by crossing my arms over my chest. The stareoff lasted thirteen seconds before I was completely unnerved by those eyes and had to look away. A lack of exposure had made me weak to them again.

"Granny Hiro died. We needed a fresh start."

"You started school here on the exact day Kira killed his first victim." I pushed down the urge to correct him. _Victims._ There had been two that day, but of course Takuo Shibuimaru had not been killed by a heart attack, and therefore did not count. Not that anyone cared about the biker anyway, apart from his group of thugs.

"Not my idea. How was I to know a mass murderer would soon be on the loose? It's not something that they advertise in travel brochures," I shot back. L started to chew on a thumbnail.

"How do you know Light Yagami?"

I swallowed. "He's a classmate. How do you know him?" Damn it, Raye Penber must have said something after all. Surely. There was no way anything else could have alerted L to him.

"You painted a picture of him. Watari bought it." Except that.

"Thank him for me, will you? Now I need to go and I ask that you _leave me alone_ after this." I tried not to think about what had happened the last time I'd asked such a request of someone.

"I can't, Valerie. Kira is no longer killing just criminals. You and Quinn need to go back to the House. There is a high chance you could be in danger."

"Really? How do you figure?"

He hummed, chewing his thumbnail with more vigour. Then, just as he opened his mouth, the door swung open.

"Ryuzaki," said a deep, familiar, Japanese-speaking voice. "Why are my family on the . . ."

I looked over L's shoulder and saw Soichiro standing there, shock written all over his face. I gave a slight wave.

"Yagami-san, save me."

* * *

TOWRTA: Woot. New chapter. If you haven't noticed by now, I'm not an intensive editor when it comes to fanfiction. I plan something, write it out, go 'sure thing' and post it. More fun that way.

Thanks to everyone who favourited, followed and reviewed. It's you guys who keep this story going (22 followers? Already?)

Next time: Soichiro-L-Minerva confrontation? And more Light/Minerva fun. Depending on the word count you guys might be in for a massive surprise.

Ehehe. See you soon.

Yours Truly  
TOWRTA


	8. Apple

Chapter Seven

The ride back to the Yagami household was silent and awkward. Upon calling ahead we'd discovered Quinn was already there and something in Soichiro's shoulders told me that we would be spending the night. L had done something to shake the man, and personally I didn't want to know what it was. I already had enough to be dealing with.

 _"_ _Ryuzaki? What is Minerva doing here?"_

 _"_ _She's here on my request. I ask that you don't inquire further. It's between Minerva-chan and I." At the informal suffix Soichiro shot me a querying, and slightly wary look. L dismissed him, saying I would be out in a minute to be taken home. As soon as the door closed he turned around._

 _"_ _We will talk later. I need information on Light Yagami. Tell no one."_

 _"_ _Who would believe me?" I already knew one answer to that question. From L's raised eyebrow, he knew it to. Without a word he gestured for me to leave the room and went over to the windows, still gnawing on his thumbnail. A part of me, the bit that was trained by Granny Hiro's daughter Suzi, cringed at the thought of all the bacteria and dirt he was lapping up with his tongue. Just as I was about to close the door there came a low, "Happy New Year, Valerie."_

 _A shudder ran down my spine, and left its chill even as I followed Soichiro to the car._

 _How on Earth was I supposed to hide this from Light?_

* * *

"Hi, Sachiko-san. Hey, Sayu-chan, Quinn. I'm going upstairs. Thanks for driving me, Yagami-san."

"Call me Soichiro, please," said Soichiro absently, running a hand over his face as he leant against the wall in the hallway. Sachiko gave me a small smile and hurried to her husband's side, hands gently pulling off his jacket. He seemed to have fallen into a state of complete unawareness. Quinn and Sayu exchanged confused glances as I passed by to walk up the stairs.

Was it just me, or was the upper floor colder than normal? Colder and darker. I almost expected snow to swirl around my feet. All of a sudden, that drawing of the hanged man reared up in my memory. Hugging myself, I quickly made my way into Light's room. Light was at his desk, Death Note in hand, Ryuk hovering in the corner with an ever-present apple.

"Minerva, where have you been?" Light pulled up short at the sight of me. "What happened?"

"Nothing." My voice was too high. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "Nothing. I'm just . . . tired. I need sleep." Light's eyes stayed trained on me as I walked to his bed and easily slipped beneath the covers. It occurred to me that Light had been perhaps waiting to tell me how he'd dealt with the the woman from the police headquarters. He said nothing, fortunately. Instead, to my surprise, he walked over, muttering to Ryuk under his breath. The Shinigami gave him was approximated an exasperated glance and phased through the wall of the room.

Then Light got into bed, slipped his arms around my waist and drew me close. I marvelled at his way of easily ignoring his culture's social standards. Then I realised I was trembling.

"What happened?" he murmured again.

"Nothing." I buried my face in his chest and willed myself to not dream. Sleep was slow in coming but I never left his arms, not even for a second. It was so much warmer with him there.

What had to be only moments later I was waking up to low laughter. The door creaked and a startled squeak was followed by the hurried footsteps of what had to be Sayu and maybe Quinn. Groaning, I snuggled deeper into Light's chest. I was so warm, so comforted. Our legs were tangled together, still wearing jeans and t-shirts. At some point in the night his hand had slipped beneath my singlet and was splayed against my back, real and reassuring. Every heartbeat echoed in time with mine. His breath ruffled my hair.

"Morning," he muttered, shifting slightly so less of my weight was on his arm.

"Morning," I replied. "Did I dream?"

"Not a sound."

"Good." A pause. Then, "How long were they out there for?"

"A few minutes, I think."

"They were talking outside the door for about twenty," Ryuk piped up from somewhere off to the left.

"Is Mum still home?"

"Yeah. She's angry."

Light sighed heavily and suddenly I was flipped on my back, staring up at him. His hair was a mess and his face looked tired but in his eyes was the fire that burned daily. Today there was something else as well; a hint of mischief.

"Time for damage control," he said lightly. Quick as a flash, he pressed a kiss to my forehead, jumped out of bed, straightened his shirt and was out the door. I sat up, baffled.

"What was that?" I asked no one in particular. Unsurprisingly, Ryuk just laughed. I threw a pillow at him. "You must be the most unhelpful Shinigami to exist."

Ryuk grinned wider. "Let's go listen to Light get scolded by his mum."

 _That must be the smartest thing I've ever heard him say,_ I though, hastily getting up and padding over to the top of the stairs.

"Morning, Mum," said Light, wandering into the kitchen. Something cracked. It sounded suspiciously like a mug.

"Morning . . . Light," said Sachiko, in a way that made the image of a _very_ angry bear pop up in my mind. I cringed behind the wall just thinking about it.

"V?" Quinn and Sayu were peaking out from her room, their expressions firmly in 'nervous'. Thinking hurriedly, I pushed them into the room, whispering, "Later," and went back to the stairs. Sachiko was mid-sentence.

" – can't believe you would do this! You have known her only a month! Your father and I were sure you would wait until marriage; we did! What were you thinking?"

Light's response was too low to be heard. I gestured for Ryuk to go into the kitchen, with a promise from him to explain what went on later. He winked and floated down the stairs.

"We both thought you had better judgement than this!"

Well, it was a bit hard not to take that as a slur against my person, even though I was sure it wasn't meant that way. Still, not wanting to hear anymore potentially traumatising words from Sachiko, I went to Sayu and Quinn.

They were sitting on her bed, hands clasped in their laps, the pictures of innocence. At my entrance Quinn leapt to his feet.

"V?"

Sighing, I shook my head. "It's not like that. I was just tired. Long day yesterday."

"Are you and Light dating?" Ah, Sayu. Ever the interrogator. Another trait she and Light shared.

I opened my mouth to reply when, low and behold, an answer different to the one on my lips came from the doorway.

"Yes." He pulled me against his chest, fingers tapping lightly on my hips. Quinn's expression quickly went blank. Without words I tried to promise him a conversation about this tonight. He nodded shortly, went to Sayu's bookshelf and brought out the sketchbook I'd bought her.

"What drawings have you done?" he asked. Sayu gave us one last sidelong look before bounding to his side, describing her work in detail with only a little less enthusiasm than normal. Light and I made our retreat.

As soon as the door closed I whirled on him. "Since _when_ are we dating!?" I hissed. He made a placating motion, moving over to his chair. I grabbed his arm and held on so tightly his skin turned white.

"I just . . ." he was at a loss for words. "You refuse?"

With an angry groan, I let him go and massaged my temples. With L's overhanging threat to check up on me some time I really didn't need to be embroiled into what could only be some Kira plot. "How can this possibly help you? What can I do? What do you want from me?"

Suddenly my hands were pulled from my head and I was staring into Light's brown eyes. They were alight with sincerity and it took my breath away.

"I promise you, Minerva, this has nothing to do with Kira." I could detect no lie in his face, and that scared me more than I could imagine.

"How can I believe you?" I whispered. "You've broken every promise you've ever made to me."

A light flickered out of his eyes. He gripped my hands harder. "Can you trust me now? Just for this?" I glanced sideways, looking at Ryuk, who was unusually quiet. His stare was intense, as though he could barely understand what was happening. Light touched my cheek, bringing my attention back to him. "Please?"

That plea broke something inside me. He had to be serious; I just wouldn't be able to continue being his friend if he wasn't anything but sincere right now. From memory he had never said please to me or anyone else while I was around, not even his family. That had to count for something, right?

Leaning up, I kissed his cheek.

"If you are lying to me, you will never see me again."

To my eternal pleasure, I felt him shiver beneath my lips.

* * *

 _Now, Light, I have to say I'm inordinately pleased that I managed to talk L into this. He was reluctant at first, of course, but with the helpful intercession of Watari he came around. So, I present to you, Light: L's perspective._

* * *

 _This is a courtesy to only Minerva, and to you, Light Yagami. For anyone else I would not consider placing my personal thoughts on paper. For you, however . . ._

 _Let's just say certain circumstances necessitated this._

* * *

It was strange. Light Yagami was a rather normal, if slightly paranoid, teenage boy. From the national exams, he was extremely intelligent, but that was no indication of personal awareness; anyone could memorise answer schematics. True intellect had to be observed.

Still, his scores in school made him the most likely to be Kira out of the Yagami family. Kira had already proven himself to be clever and too arrogant to avoid expressing it. Yes, Light Yagami was at the top of the Kira suspect list, even though it was only early in terms of investigation so far.

Raye Penber had so far only brought information about Light Yagami and a girl who had been on the bus with him, who turned out to be Minerva Catearro. Or Valerie, as she was when I knew her.

 _This makes no sense,_ I thought. _Valerie has good judgement. She wouldn't attach herself to a murderer, would she?_ Then I thought about her at the House. Her loneliness, her loyalty to Quinn, who she would die for. And how she used to follow BB around like a puppy before the incident. I revised my opinion. If she was shown a certain level of interest, she would cling to it without letting go. No doubt a result from her isolated youth.

"But why Light?" I wondered aloud, pressing my lip with my thumb.

"Huh?" said Soichiro, who was staring at his empty house on the cameras without ceasing. His shoulders were lined with tension, his face haggard. This past month had not been good to him. Most likely Watari would say I should show remorse for putting him through so much. Instead I only felt annoyance. This man had laid his life on the line. He could at least stop acting like every day was a struggle.

I did not reply. Light had returned to the house, and with him was Valerie.

"I'm home!" he called out, holding the door open for Valerie. "No one's home?"

"Sachiko is taking Sayu and Quinn to the shopping mall. Quinn needs new headphones and Sayu wanted to find another poster."

"Of Hideki Ryuga?"

"No, of Ryuk." She chuckled, but stopped when Light curled his arm around her waist, tugging her close to him. He whispered in her ear.

 _Who in the world is Ryuk?_

"Minerva-san and Light are in a relationship?" Soichiro asked incredulously. "They've only know each other a month." I gave him a sidelong glance.

"You didn't suspect?"

"I only go home to sleep most days now."

"Teenagers nowadays are much freer with their emotions. I can't say I know what it's like, but it's normal for them to start a relationship quickly." Inwardly I cursed; too much information given freely. I was shaken by this Valerie situation. Watari had commented that it was surprise to see her in Tokyo. More like a horrific shock. I had bought the apartment for her, granted, but what was she _doing_ here? Why _now_? What had Hiro told her to make her bring Quinn halfway across the world?

Too many questions, too little chance of having them answered any time soon without arousing suspicion, especially from Light. Speaking of which, he was dragging her onto his lap.

 _It may be because there is only one chair. She does have her study books with her and will need access to the desk._ That whimsical thought went out the window when the boy began to massage her shoulders, she leaning into his touch with a sigh.

 _This can't be right._ Something was short-circuiting in my mind. The usual screed of non-stop percentages and theories that rolled through the back of my thoughts was blank, frozen in place, as a surge of possessiveness I had never thought I'd experience again came back. And of course _she_ was the root of it.

The last time I'd felt this was when she had been with BB, being attacked, picked apart, destroyed from the inside out with naught but words and a knife. BB hadn't even bothered to take her away from the House. It happened in his bedroom, where no one entered. It was only Quinn's investigation into the whereabouts of his adopted sister that led to finding them. What followed was Quinn and Valerie fleeing the House, running to Canada with no hint of ever coming back.

And now she was here again, in the arms of who was possibly a murderer, her neck bared to be slit. It was almost agonising to watch.

Barely suppressing my rage, I watched them 'study' together, go down to dinner and see the news report on the 1500 agents being brought to Japan. Light was quick to denounce it; I made an offhand comment to Soichiro about Light's quick thinking but it was of no surprise. Valerie, for all her faults, new how to find the smart ones.

Quinn was at the table as well. He had grown up quickly in the few years since I'd seen him last, but that was to be expected. When he and Valerie left for their home in a taxi I had to stop myself from sighing in relief. Now I could think easily, watch without emotions getting in the way.

 _Kira. Are you really hiding behind the guise of this teenager?_

Watari came into the dark room. "Ryuzaki, two criminals whose names were just released on the news have died due to sudden heart attacks."

"Hmm, thank you, Watari." That made things difficult. All Light had done all night was eat potato chips and study. The other two had simply turned off the television once Hideki Ryuga's programme was done and talked in the living room. How could any of them done it?

"Do you still consider my family to be suspect?" Soichiro demanded.

"Yes . . . the Yagami family seems almost too innocent." It was early yet, but there was definitely something about them, about Light, that begged closer observation. Purely on a Kira-investigation level, of course. Once the family was asleep I left the room, knowing that nothing would occur that Soichiro could not update me on, unless Kira was somehow murdering in his sleep. I made my way to the spartan office, where Watari was waiting.

Watari gave me a long, searching look, one I had not been subjected to in years. He found what he was looking for. "She is an intelligent girl. She knows what she is doing."

"Intelligence didn't stop her from being attacked by Beyond," I shot back, moving to the windows. It was a cold world out there, I noted. Grey buildings, grey trees, grey streets, grey sky. Everything was leeched of colour. Like God had forgotten to flick the switch for polychrome when He designed this day in His book.

"She was young then. She has learned."

"She is still immature. If there is the slightest chance that Light Yagami is Kira, she should have left already. If he _is_ Kira, she must know."

"And if she does know?"

"Then we must separate them."

"Ryuzaki, I believe you are speaking from jealousy."

I resisted the urge to whirl around and express my anger like a child. That was what I had done before. Now I was stronger, more disciplined. I had learned from my mistakes.

"I am speaking from pragmatism. She means nothing to me anymore. It would only be cruel to allow her to be ensnared by Kira when she has Quinn to look after."

"If you separated Light Yagami and Miss Minerva, it does not mean she will come back to you, Ryuzaki," Watari warned. Memories from before hit me in a wave; young Valerie swinging her feet as she watched me work, asking questions, knowing when to be silent. Quinn following her like a miniature sun in her orbit. Never worrying about being alone because even when Near and Mello were too awed and envious to approach, she had no qualms. She did not covet the L position. She merely wanted to watch. And so I had watched her back.

She painted a portrait of me at one time. I had given it to Watari to dispose of. Hopefully it was ashes now.

"That is the past. It does not matter now."

Watari sighed, and left. The door closed behind him with a near-inaudible click.

I pressed my thumb to my mouth, like it would make the lie any more truthful.

* * *

"Apples!" I sat up in horror as punk-rocker Shinigami flew through my wall. "Minerva, I need apples!"

"What? Why from me?" I demanded, tugging down my shirt that had ridden up while I slept.

"Because there are cameras at Light's and I can't eat apples there without them looking like they are floating. You've got to help me. I'm having withdrawals." Even as I watched his arms seemed to distort, one twisting behind his back and the other hanging limply in a way that seemed to defy conventional bone structure. Did Shinigami even had bones? Could you dissect one to look at their anatomy?

Deciding that now probably wasn't the best time to ask, I slowly got to my feet and padded into the kitchen. Quinn wasn't there; he was fiddling with his new headphones in his room. In moments I had an armful of apples and was closing my bedroom door behind me. Ryuk descended on the pile like a ravenous wolf.

"Thanks," he got out between mouthfuls. "They're my – addiction – like alcohol to – humans."

"I see." I really didn't. It was kind of hard to think when those sharp teeth were slicing through red apple skin as fast as a jackhammer. And also fascinating, in a disturbing way.

"Hey, could I draw you?" I asked suddenly. Ryuk paused, tilting his head.

"Why?"

"Because . . . no one's ever done your portrait before?" Was it possible to say 'because the way you eat apples both disgusts and fascinates me and I want to get it down on paper like a carnival sideshow poster' in a nice way?

Ryuk thought for a moment, chewing ponderously on his fruit. After a minute, he said, "Sure. Just keep the apples coming," and sat on the carpet.

Weirdly enough, I felt almost gleeful as I picked up my sketchbook. After all, who gets to draw a death god and live to tell the tale?

It was only after I'd finished his face that I realised that those eyes were _very_ familiar.

I'd seen them on two different people before.

* * *

TOWRTA: I feel like I must add that this _hasn't_ really been edited either. If someone who is either as good or a better writer than me wants to ever beta-read, be my guest. I just don't have the time to do it myself.

Other than that, I found it rather easy to write L's point of view. Thought it would be harder, but then again, I mess with every character in this story to my own ends. And yay! More of Quinn & Minerva/Valerie back story. At the rate we're going I may not have to do a whole chapter devoted to just her growing up. That makes life easier for me.

So? What did you think?

Next chapter: there's a fire. Oh no!

(random note: I now have a striped, feather-stuffed, wingback chair in my rather small room. The longer you sit in it, the warmer it gets. Ahhh, Heaven in a chair)


	9. Fire

Chapter Eight

"Yes, I'll make sure they get to school in the morning. Thank you for letting them stay over for the night – Quinn's wanted to hang out with Sayu for a while now. Schoolwork during the holidays kept him busy." I leaned against the countertop, surveying the lounge. Sayu rested her back on her brother's legs as she listened to my brother play his newest composition. He'd asked her to name it. The three had decided that lights weren't necessary for tonight; they sat in darkness with the bright lights of Tokyo outside spread in a blanket of golden and white stars reaching to the horizon as their illumination.

"Get Sayu to bed by ten, please. She's been staying up too late watching Hideki Ryuga lately."

"Of course. I think she's already tired." Indeed, Sayu's eyes were closing every few seconds and it seemed as though she was waging an internal war to keep them open.

"Have a good evening, then, Minvera-chan."

"You too, Sachiko-san. Enjoy your dinner with Soichiro-san."

"I told you not to bother with the -san. You're too much a part of our family by now."

"And I'm forever grateful. I don't know what Quinn and I'd have done without your family. You've been a blessing to us." Ryuk gave a raspy chuckle in my ear. I suppressed a jump and smacked him in the arm. My hand passed right through.

"Oh, Soichiro is waiting. Good night, Minerva-chan."

"Good night."

I hung up the phone with a smile on my face. Sachiko was one of the most lovely people I had met. My words to her were the truth; she, Soichiro and Sayu had been wonderful supports when Quinn and I were surrounded by the cultural clashes that kept arising from our English-Canadian upbringing and Japanese normalcy.

Light . . . he was sort of a special case within the Yagami clan.

I sat down on the couch next to him, ruffling Sayu's hair as I did so. She leant into my touch and I caught her by the shoulders when she began to tip. The girl was fast asleep.

"Light," I murmured. He noticed and picked his sister up, carrying her to the guest bedroom we had set up in the back for her. Light had insisted on staying on the couch. I believed it was to have some privacy with Ryuk - and didn't _that_ sound odd - but did not raise my opinion.

"Quinn, you should go to bed too. There's still school tomorrow." He nodded, picking himself up and waving to me with a quiet, "Night, V." I waved back.

Light returned, running a hand through his copper hair, and threw himself onto the couch. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into him while staring out the main windows. Most of the time he didn't seem to notice the times he touched me, like it was second nature. It amazed me that this relationship or whatever it was had lasted so long.

 _No. Don't think about it not being real. You'll break._

"How long has it been since your parents last had a date?" I asked for lack of anything else to say. Amusement spread over Light's face at my inane question.

"Over a year, I believe. Dad's work doesn't leave him much time off." He gave me a sidelong glance, unusual good humour sparkling in his eyes.

"What is it?" I asked warily.

"Nothing." His gaze returned to the windows. "I just feel bored."

I was on my feet in an instant, walking over to the fridge. "Hey, Ryuk, you hungry?" The Shinigami perked up in excitement and hovered after me like a gruesome puppy. He was practically panting as I opened the refrigerator door.

"Ignoring me now?" asked Light from the couch.

"Ryuk once told me that you picked up the Death Note because you were bored. I don't feel like dealing with another one of your mad schemes when the last one turned you into Kira. Here you go, Ryuk." I picked the juiciest, reddest apple I could find. "Go long." I threw it across the room. He flew after it faster than a tornado, grabbing and stuffing it in his mouth just before he phased out the front windows.

Light got up, stretching his arms above his head. I averted my eyes from his abdomen, exposed by his school shirt riding up. He smirked and I swear I saw a flash of red within in his eyes. A sinking feeling hit my stomach - maybe sending Ryuk from the room had been a bad idea.

He stalked towards, his feet as silent as a cat's. I silently marvelled at his ability to move with such grace without any of the training. It had taken me half a year to learn to move through the hunting grounds in Canada without snapping a twig. Quinn hadn't ever bothered, too focused on his music. I had envied, and still did, his ability to lose himself in his craft every single time. It was too easy for me to find myself reliving some event I would rather forget when I painted without thinking. Hence the numerous trips into the undergrowth to avoid my past.

"Where are you?" came a whisper in my ear. I flinched, my back hitting the fridge with a loud thud. Light's eyes widened in surprise. His hands came around my shoulders, steadying me as I evened out my breathing.

It took a moment to regain my composure. Gently, I tried to ease myself out of his grasp. His fingers pressed into my shoulders harder.

"What was that?" he demanded, a sibilance appearing in his voice I hadn't heard before.

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"I swear, it was nothing." Only that Light apparently still had the ability to freak me out like nothing else could. He wouldn't appreciate the sentiment.

He pushed my chin upwards with two fingers. The red was gone, replaced with natural brown, veiled by the bright bronze of his hair. Without thinking I reached up and brushed the strands from his forehead, irritated by the way they fell in his eyes. A sigh escaped him.

His lips were inches from my own when I blurted out the thing that I had pushed to the edges of my mind what seemed like an age ago.

"Would you sacrifice me?"

Light jerked back, stepping away. For once his emotions were clear on his face. Surprise, wariness, worry and the slightest bit of shame. The way his thoughts were racing was almost visible. On his legs his fingers tapped, beating out a frantic pace with no discernible rhythm.

"Who have you been talking to?" he asked. I raised my eyebrows.

"Why would I be talking to someone? Who would believe me?"

He muttered something under his breath, and it sounded suspiciously like 'L', but he didn't pursue that line of questioning. Instead he walked to the windows, running his fingers through his hair, shoulders hunched. Gait still that of a predator.

Quiet mumbling issued from his lips and I was sure that, had Ryuk been here and not me, nothing would've stopped him from ranting about his arch-nemesis to his heart's content. Unfortunately, all he had was me, and I wasn't about to say I knew L better than he could imagine.

A hoarse mutter was loud enough for me to hear. "Why? Why would you ask me that?"

In all honesty, I had no idea. To stop him from trying to kiss me? To figure out where his real loyalties lay? Most likely it was to discover how attached I should be to him, how much of the fear lurking in my chest was justified, whether I should take Quinn and run.

Whether I should tell L now and save the Yagami family from what could only be a world of pain if Kira's plans escalated dangerously.

None of those were things I could say to Light. He would draw away from me, or manipulate me more than he was already to ensure my loyalty. Or, well, kill me to stop me talking. That was always an option.

Eventually I settled on deflecting. "Would you sacrifice any of us? Are we essential in your perfect world?"

A shudder ran through Light's body. He was more out of control than I'd thought he would be.

"No," he said.

"No to what?" 'No' could give two very different replies.

"No . . . I wouldn't sacrifice you." It sounded like a lie. It felt like a lie. His fingers tightened into fists and I knew it was a lie. Something in my chest snapped.

"Oh -" my voice cracked. "Okay."

A strained, tension-filled silence fell upon us as I fiddled with a pencil from my pocket. I'd always known I was expendable in the grand plan of Kira, but to hear it right from him made it a little more daunting.

So, turns out Light was more Kira than I had feared and all Kira cared about was himself. None of us were essential.

Suddenly, a memory came to mind, from the week before when we had started this 'relationship'.

 _"If you are lying to me, you will never see me again."_

Well, if I was anything, I was a woman of my word. See you around, Light Yagami. Quinn and I weren't coming back.

Quietly, I went to my bedroom, intending to examine what could be packed quickly and what would have to be left for Quinn and I's relocation. Miss Hisashi could take my finished paintings to her sister and the rest would have to be boxed up. Too bad we had only finished unpacking two days ago. There should be enough in the bank to find us a new place to stay.

 _I could ask L. He said we should stay at the House again._

There was always that option. Mello should have grown up by now. And . . . BB wasn't there anymore. I swallowed roughly. Bad memories of that place resurfaced and I shoved them down with a ruthless force of will.

I would have to apologise to the Yagami family. Hopefully Light would never have to sacrifice one of them but I couldn't hang around and try to offer what meagre protection I could when I had Quinn to look out for. Light had already made it clear he didn't care about me the second he lied. My words held no sway over him.

As I began putting paint brushes back in their cases my cell phone rang. Absently I took it out of my pocket and wedged it between my ear and shoulder.

"Hello?"

"Valerie?" I dropped the brushes in my hands.

"What is it?"

"There's been an accident at the Yagami house. It's on fire."

* * *

The house burned fiercely, like the building was a poison that had to be purged. Sparks singed our hair, smoke made our eyes water and the flames were so bright we had to turn away. The walls of the house were charcoal, glowing red amongst the black. Light's room had caved in - the firefighters said that was where the fire started.

Thick black clouds billowed into the air without a breath of wind to blow them apart, a signal to all. Here a family's life is destroyed. Here is where life as they know it ends. Here is death.

The Yagami family car was on the drive. This was a funeral pyre.

"Dad! Mum!" Sayu screamed, trying to push her way through the watching crowd who were gathered to see a family break apart. A fireman snatched her around the waist before she could run into the flames. Quinn's fingers entwined with my own. He pressed himself into my side, shaking. The tremors made my own worse.

This was too similar to my nightmares, to those times I thought I was remembering what had happened to my own parents. I would never wish such a fate upon anyone, and now it was happening to Sayu and Light. Sayu's innocence was being taken right before my eyes.

I glanced up at Light. A hand covered his face. His shoulder shook. I pretended he was in distress - I pretended my words to him earlier had made an impact, that the death of his parents were causing him to shake with what could be sorrow, horror, anguish.

With one hand I zipped Light's bag closed, hiding his Death Note from sight.

* * *

"Quinn, take Light and Sayu home. I've got to talk to someone."

Quinn stared at me shrewdly, his fingers tightening in mine. I almost didn't have to look down anymore. He'd grown so much in the last month we were nearly eye to eye.

"Who?" he asked. I blinked, but I should have expected the question.

"You know who."

He pursed his lips, nodded, and pulled me into a tight hug that lasted only a second. "Come home quickly."

"I will."

I watched as the three of them walked off, Light shooting me glances over his shoulder but otherwise not protesting. Sayu was too distressed for him to be openly interrogative. She needed her brother, and for that I was thankful as it took him off my hands.

With a deep breath, I walked towards the park near the Yagami house where I'd spent some time with Sayu and Sachiko during the holidays. It was deserted, which should have been a warning, but I was too concentrated on working up the courage to take out my phone to pay attention to my surroundings. Grasping every bit of strength left to me after such a night, I re-dialled the last number on my calls list.

"Valerie?"

"Hello."

"What is it?"

"Light and Sayu. Their parents are dead. They have no one else to stay with. Any relation is overseas. What will you do?"

There was a long pause. I shuffled anxiously, taking out my pencil and twirling it between my fingers. Away from the fire the cold night air of mid-winter was biting and dug its claws into my exposed hands. Why hadn't I put on gloves? There was a single line of trees ringing the grass park and they offered no shelter from the chill.

"We can find an apartment for them. What will you do?"

"We -" Could I run now? Could I take Quinn and flee and leave Sayu grieving with no one but her older, disturbed brother for company? Sure, he could put on a believable act, but would my conscience allow it?

"I suppose we'll stay."

"You were going to leave?"

"I was thinking about taking up your offer of the House. I don't suppose you would let Light and Sayu stay too?"

"No."

"Thought so."

"Where are you? We need to talk in person."

"Hah. Never thought I'd hear the great L say that."

" _Valerie_ _._ "

"Sorry. I'm just . . . strained, is all. Can you pick me up?"

"Where are you?"

"The park close to Light's house."

" _Alone_?" he asked sharply.

"Yes. Why?"

There was a hurried conversation on the other end, muffled by what had to be L's hand over the microphone. A door slammed. "There have been reports of a biker gang in the area. They prey on young women. You need to find shelter, quickly. Watari will be there in approximately six minutes."

Oh. Right. I forgot about them. The tall trees around the park seemed a lot more menacing all of a sudden. My left leg twinged in phantom pain.

"L?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell Watari to hurry?"

"Stay on the phone."

"Even if I have to run?"

"What? Why?"

"Because I can hear engines." And they were very badly tuned. Hoots of laughter filled the air, coming nearer every second. Catcalls and shouting sent shudders running down my spine. The lights of a motorcycle rounded the corner of the street in front of me, blinding even through the trees.

"Hey, lookie here, boys. I found one!"

"Hey, wait a minute, I remember her!"

"Sorry, L," I said. "Gotta run. I hope you can track my phone." With that I snapped it shut, shoved it in my pocket and waited. Several of the men jumped off their bikes and stormed through the treeline, shouting insults and obscenities. The others circled around the park, their lights flashing past the tree trunks. I waited until there were only a few metres between me and the closest biker, his leer making my skin crawl. Those on the bikes had just finished passing behind me. Without warning, I sprinted for the back of the park, dodging under one man's arm and sending a swift kick into the stomach of another. It was a straight shot to the alleyways of the suburb beyond.

I barrelled past the trees and onto the street, feeling my heart lift when the lights of the streetlamps illuminated the ground in front of me. Almost there.

There was a screech of tires and a grey bike cut off my path. The rider wore a grey helmet. He snatched me around the waist and pulled him onto the bike in front of him, unheeding of my screams.

"LET GO!" I screeched, struggling with all my might. He held my hands to my chest with one arm of steel and sped off. Wild shouts followed us, congratulating their gangmate on grabbing me. The roars of their engines drowned out each of my cries. The bike was moving so fast I didn't dare wrench myself away from him. I'd seen enough quad bike accidents to know that at this speed I wouldn't live in a crash.

 _Watari, where are you!?_

Corner after corner, street after street. Where was he taking me? Back to base? No, please no. If they were willing to rape a woman in the middle of a street, what would they do to me in the privacy of their own turf?

There was a terrified shriek from behind us. The biker holding me threw down the brakes, sliding to a halt with a screech, swinging the bike around. A black car faced us. A shot rang out. The front wheel of the bike exploded in a shower of hot rubber. A scream tore itself from my throat even as I jerked myself from the biker's grip and stumbled towards the headlights of the car. Another crack of the gun, so loud my ears rang. From behind me came a strangled groan.

"Watari?" My voice was curiously weak.

"Good evening, Miss Minerva. Would you please step inside? The police are on their way."

"Oh. Good." The moment I sat down in the back I slumped over, exhaustion pushing all the adrenaline from my limbs and leaving them quivering. I passed out just as the engine restarted.

* * *

TOWRTA: Well today is Wednesday of week one of my holidays. I can safely say you guys will have more updates from me within the next two weeks, but I'm not sure how many. I have a rather busy life as it turns out (who knew?).

Don't know whether this counts as a cliffhanger or not but it's certainly a plot twist. Soichiro and Sachiko are dead? Oh no! (hehehehe)

Have a good day, people. Thank you for the reviews and follows and favourites and don't forget I will always reply, even if I'm not always prompt.

I want to know what you all thought of this twist! (whatever will Sayu and Light do now? Where will they stay? Where is Minerva going with Watari? Will Quinn ever grow to her height!? So many questions!)

Next chapter: aftermath


	10. Oliver Twist

Chapter Nine

"Miss Minerva? We have arrived." I opened my eyes to see Watari's face just in my periphery, black and white and wrinkled. I should have liked to sketch him, if I could have but found the strength somewhere in my aching body. Lying on the leather backseat, warmed by my body, for forever and an age sounded like a pleasant way to spend the rest of my life. No more fire, no more Light, no more L. Bliss.

"Miss Minerva, I'm afraid I have to insist."

I sighed, staring up at the black roof. It was patterned, the outline of many fleur-de-lis only just visible in the streetlamp illumination spilling through the windows. Watari certainly drove in style.

 _Time to face the music._ Something inside told me that I was in for a long night.

Watari gave me his arm to get out of the car, and together we walked in through the grand hotel doors into the marble lobby like a couple from the nineteenth century. Those would have been fun days to live in – no need for any undue worry over school exams and so on. Though being an orphan, especially an orphan girl with a little brother to look out for, would have been rather a hassle. Oliver Twist came to mind, and the idea of living in the 1800s became less scintillating.

The elevators were ornamented with gold, twisting up the corners, spreading over the ceiling and curling into a small chandelier.

"I'm sure L would not be contrary to you staying here and drawing for a few days," said Watari, noticing the way my eyes followed the designs.

"You know I can't do that," I said absently. "I have two more people to look after now."

"They aren't your family."

"Not by blood, but I can't abandon them."

The elevator dinged upon reaching the penthouse floor. It was a gentle, patient sound that was so much kinder on the ears than the usual jarring clash of less expensive hotels and offices. The doors slid open and revealed the rooms to be rather different to the ones I had visited before. Instead of traditional European furniture, this was more American, following in the footsteps of the new money socialites of the 1920s. It was like stepping into The Great Gatsby. Shiny tiles arranged in hexagons, hard wooden walls polished to perfection, marble at every protruding corner. More chandeliers, a grand pianoforte in the main room and a wall made from glass looking north over the city, away from the fire of the Yagami house.

L stood at the windows, hunched over as usual, but there was something solemn in his stance. Whereas he usually gave the impression of deep thought and intense analysis of any given situation, now he seemed . . . harried. Aggravated. Anxious. It was there in the line of his shoulders, the way he rubbed his foot almost obsessively against his calf, the tapping of his fingers on the glass. The great detective L was as close to a nervous breakdown as he could get.

"Ryuzaki, I have brought Miss Minerva." Watari turned to me. "I shall get you some tea, Miss Minerva, and a blanket."

"Thank you, Watari." He nodded and walked into another room through a carved wooden door. It was always strange to see him give me such attention. Usually he was the kindly gentleman who stayed at the House when L was there and attended to the detective's every need while always professing the impression of a core of steel. Us kids had learnt not to disturb Watari, or Whammy, as he was at the House. L was more important than all of us combined. We had to rely on the housekeeper and her maids for any sort of help.

L moved away from the windows, padded across the hexagonal floor, and stopped mere inches from my person. With searching eyes he examined me from head to toe. Not touching. His gaze was palpable enough as it was.

"You are not hurt," he said. It wasn't a question. I shook my head anyway.

"What caused the fire?" I already had an idea, ever since I saw Light's room destroyed, but perhaps L knew more.

He bit his thumb and sat down on the chaise lounge, curled in on himself as usual. I tucked my feet under myself on the white loveseat, the leather making an awful sound against my down jacket. Watari came back, blanket in one hand and a tray of two steaming teacups in the other. He placed the tray on the table between us, exchanged my jacket for the woollen blanket, and left. I didn't imagine he would be coming back any time soon.

After a long silence, I said, "L. Tell me. What started the fire?"

He gazed into the faux fire opposite to the windows, the light of the flames absorbed by his dilated pupils. No flickering reflection. It was rather creepy.

"You know of the cameras."

"Yes."

"There was a mistake. Soichiro and Sachiko weren't meant to come home so early, which caused the man removing the wiretaps and cameras to rush his job. When he was in Light's room I can only suppose there was a problem with the last camera because the next thing we knew the place was alight. Soichiro and Sachiko didn't make it out."

He knew more than that, he had to. No way did he suspect one of his criminal contacts to make such a juvenile mistake like starting a housefire when removing a camera. The tiny spark that could have occurred would have been easily put out in seconds.

His criminal must have found Light's false bottom and forced it open, thus igniting the trap and setting the desk ablaze. And since the person shouldn't have been in the house to begin with, the likelihood of them calling the fire department was slim to none. There wasn't a smoke alarm in Light's room; the fire grew until it was too late.

I swallowed this slowly, staring at my hands wrapped in wool and trying to stop them trembling. Too my shame, my thoughts weren't with Soichiro and Sachiko, but on the fact that the Death Note had survived. Light had brought it to my house, it was in his bag as we watched his house burn. He was still Kira. His parents had been killed in his game with L and died for nothing. I didn't know whether to blame Light or L for their deaths. Both were responsible.

"What will happen to them now?" I asked quietly.

"Watari has ordered a task force headquarters to be built here in the city. Once it is complete Sayu and Light can move in." He glanced at me out the corner of his eye. "Until then, they will need somewhere to stay."

"I –" I swallowed. "Of course. They can stay with us. We have a spare room."

L nodded, but didn't seem any less uneasy with my compliance. He still wanted me to run back to the House with Quinn, out of harm's way. But at least now he would have those under his watch all in the same place.

"And the task force? They no longer have their leader."

"I can't bring anyone else on since too many people know my identity already. But . . ." he shifted slightly, pushing himself further into the curved back of the sofa. "I may bring Light on once he has completed high school."

I tried not to laugh. I really did. However, I couldn't stop my shoulders shaking with pained mirth as I imagined Kira on the task force, trying to find himself. I knew that L only wanted Light to examine the possibility of him being Kira in close quarters and manoeuvring him into a corner, but still. The irony was too strong.

With a strained tone I said, "Will the rest of the task force let you?"

"I am eighty-five percent certain I can convince them."

"Then by all means. Take him." _I don't want to deal with his Kira-insanity anymore._

"I don't know when I will conscript him, but I will tell you."

"You don't have to. It might tip Light off if I'm getting strange phone calls I won't tell him about."

"He has that much control over your life?" L moved forwards, hands on his knees and eyes piercing. I stared straight back.

"You lost your right to be concerned over me the second BB took me into his room."

L flinched like I'd struck him. "I didn't know what he was then," he murmured.

"Yeah, well." I stood up, blanket sliding off my shoulders. "Maybe if you'd paid a little more attention to the people around you than the world, I would still be at the House."

* * *

"V!" Quinn jumped up from the couch and came to my side. I stepped out of the elevator and smiled at him. He gave a small yelp of surprise when I pulled him into a tight hug, burying my face in his hair. He was warm. He was home. I didn't want to let him go. Quinn wrapped his arms around me and reciprocated the embrace with equal fervour. We hadn't had a hug like this in too long.

After who knows how long, he pulled away, dragging me through the kitchen to Light and Sayu, who were seated against the couch. Tear tracks ran down Sayu's face as she sobbed into her brother's shoulder, her brown hair a bedraggled mess from hands being run through it too often.

Light, on the other hand, was the picture of controlled depression. His face was suitably miserable, hair falling in his eyes in lank strands, shirt rumpled and stained from his sister's tears. Yet his eyes were clear. The second he looked at me for showed no signs of the weeping Sayu had succumbed to. They were dry. Then he closed them again and tugged Sayu closer, hiding his designed expression from my sight.

"I'll make us dinner," I said. Quinn stuck to my side, too socially awkward to even attempt staying with the Yagami siblings in their grief.

We set to work chopping vegetables and chicken and boiling rice for stir fry, remembering the recipe from Sachiko's lesson once a week ago. My breathing hitched at the thought. I set my knife down and strained my arms against the counter, trying to crush the upsurge of emotion in my chest. Some of the shock, the numbness, was falling away with every breath I took and reality was sinking in.

Sayu and Light were now relying on me to house them, feed them, pay for their lives. Soichiro and Sachiko weren't here anymore. No more guidance or kind words or smiles to distract me from their son. I was on my own.

I glanced over at Quinn, his blonde hair flopping in time to the beat playing in his head as he cut up the chicken. For the first time in my life, I wished I was the younger sibling and it was Quinn who would be handling all this. A small, resentful thought came that it was unfair for me to deal with the nightmares and BB and L and Light and moving house and making a living for us while he rode on my coattails. My grip on the knife tightened.

"V?" I blinked. Quinn's eyes were suddenly close, concern obvious in their depths. I gave him and grimace of a smile and returned to chopping up vegetables. He went to his knife and continued with the chicken.

Those hateful, poisonous thoughts swirled through my mind even as I set the table and coaxed Sayu and Light to the table. Sayu didn't say thank you, and Light only muttered a quiet word of gratefulness and my emotions got darker. We ate in silence. I tried to drag my thoughts away from the murmurs of _unfair, uncompassionate, taken for granted, no one cares_ , but when my knife hit my empty plate with a sharp crack I had to push my chair back and rush to my room, slamming the door.

My hands were shaking as they covered my face. I let out a breath that was more of a sob and my strength deserted me. I collapsed to the ground and had only just enough frame of mind to drag myself to the bed. Large, dark eyes stared at me in surprise and interest.

"What's got you so worked up?" asked Ryuk, sitting up and floating an inch above my bedcovers. "Was it something Light did?"

I choked out a laugh. Of course my life would fall to the point where my confidante was a Shinigami who ruined the lives of those closest to me. Was anything going to ever go right for me?

"Ryuk, does reincarnation exist?"

"No."

"Shame. It would've been useful to blame all this on karma."

"What happened?"

I sighed, heaving myself up to lean on the side of the bed. A picture of Light was on my wall, a sketch drawn two weeks ago of him at his desk, studying for once instead of writing names. The desk that had exploded into flames and killed his parents.

"Soichiro and Sachiko are dead."

"I know." Right. He saw the fire with us.

"And now I'm going to look after Sayu and your little Shinigami-trainee."

"There's no other place they can go?"

"Hah. You think Light would let himself be shipped off to some foster home now? In a few weeks he'll be eighteen and he can take care of himself. Until then . . ."

Ryuk flipped onto his stomach, face uncomfortably close to my own, and flicked his feet back and forth in the air. It was reminiscent of Sayu when discussing Hideki Ryuga.

"So I can get all my apples from you? You won't hold out on me like Light does?"

"Sure, as long as you promise to do me a favour at some point in return."

He chuckled and whispered in my ear, "Anything." A shudder raced down my spine. Quickly, I scooted over to the opposite wall and glared at him. He laughed, and at that moment the door opened.

"Minerva?" Light's glanced at Ryuk for a moment, who waved, and then to me. My glare hardened.

"You should be with your sister," I said.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"What a surprise."

Light shut the door and locked it. The low _click_ it made had me flinching, plastering myself closer to the wall in between half completed canvases and a box of paints. I wrapped my arms around my knees and tried to be as small as possible.

"Ryuk, get out."

"Nah, I think I'll stay." The death god grinned, making himself comfortable amongst my sheets. "This is going to be interesting." Light's hands curled into fists. I breathed in deeply.

"Ryuk." His grin dimmed slightly. "Could you please? I don't think you want to hear this." A swirl of rage was building in my stomach at the sight of Light and his blank expression. "I'll give you two apples every meal for a week."

"Deal." He disappeared through the wall. There was a long silence, in which I focused on the dark green carpet at my feet and Light examined the many pictures of him and his family and Quinn scattered all over the room. He picked up one of his mother and father at the dinner table.

"You remember what I said before, about sacrifices?" His head snapped up sharply but I kept my gaze down as I continued. "So was this worth it? The fire started in your room. What do you think caused it?"

The drawing fluttered out of his grasp. Suddenly he was there, crouching in front of me grasping my jaw. "Did you know this was going to happen? Did you know the fire would start?"

"You're delusional," I spat. "As if I'd kill your parents to get a point across. Being Kira is getting to you, Light Yagami. You aren't the boy I met."

"No. That boy was weak. I'm more than he could ever have imagined," he said coolly. I tore free of him and stood. The rage spilled over.

"I can't believe you! How can you be so cruel in the face of their _deaths_? Your parents are _dead,_ Light. They burned alive in a fire because of _you_! You have to feel something beyond this – this – calculating monster!" Light betrayed no emotion. I almost screamed in frustration. "You have no idea, do you? No idea of the pain you've caused, the ruin you leave in your wake." I bent down, moving as close to him as I could bear. "Think about it, Light. Imagine you are them. You feel the heat. Trapped, unable to run. Your mum and dad, alone in that house, crying out to each other as the smoke coats their lungs and flames lick up their legs. Your nerves screaming at you. Pain beyond measure. Your skin cracked and blistering, your hands charred, being ripped apart with agony until you are injured beyond the point of feeling it and your blood _boiling_ in your veins. You die within minutes that seem to last decades, hoping your children are alright, hoping they are safe. And the reality is, it's all their son's fault."

Light leapt forwards, grabbing me by the wrists and slamming me into the wall, so hard my head hit it with a crack. Stars burst in my vision and it took several seconds for them to fade and reveal his face, distorted and terrifying.

"Shut up. Just _shut up._ You've never had parents so how can you even think to understand what I'm going through?"

"Yes, because I'm an orphan I don't know what love is, right? I have _Quinn._ If he died by my hand I would take my own life in penance!"

Light's mouth twisted. "So you think I should commit suicide?"

"No! You have Sayu to look after! There is no way I'm letting you leave me to clean up your mess even more than I am already!"

"This is about you then, is it?" He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes and the hands wrapped around my arms were shaking ever so slightly. "It doesn't matter that Soichiro and Sachiko are dead, no. Only that poor Minerva-chan is stuck with their kids. What would your Granny Hiro have to say about that?"

"She would say I should take Sayu and run as far from you as possible. Anything is better than living with a psychotic _murderer_ who'd kill his own family for his twisted plan."

He jerked away, turning his back on me and covering his face with his hands. I slid to the floor and watched, curious. It was slow, but Light seemed to finally realise the implications of what he'd done. He began to shake ever so slightly.

"This is all your fault, Light. No one else's but yours," I whispered. "Soon you're going to look around and realise that being god is a lonely thing."

"I chose this path," he hissed. "I'm stronger than this. No one else can do it but me. I _am_ god of this new world."

"Is being a god truly worth losing everything precious to you? You'll be left alone, with only a Shinigami who cares nothing for you for company." I cocked my head, leaning forwards. "Humans aren't meant to be isolated. We need each other to live."

He turned to me then, eyes bloodshot from what I hoped were tears but could easily be madness. A small, warped smile curved his lips. It was pathetic, harrowing, and I felt my soul almost bleed for him.

Then he had to ruin it by saying, "You'll stay with me, won't you?" With the steps of a predator, at odds to the tremulous voice, he walked me back into the wall, tracing a finger up my arm. "I need someone to . . . keep me grounded."

"Stop it," I snarled. "You can't manipulate me."

This small smile disappeared and was replaced with pleading eyes. "I need you, Minerva. You're right, I hate being alone. Stay here."

"If you hate being alone you shouldn't have started killing people!"

His expression changed _again,_ becoming intense. "I need a queen." Change. Desperate. "There's no one else I can trust." Angry. "Everyone else doesn't understand. They are all fools." Hopeful. "We can make a new world, one full of only good people." Happy. "With your help, no one innocent needs to suffer ever again." Hard. "But you _can't leave._ "

"STOP IT!" I screamed, shoving him away. He stumbled back, apparently shocked, but the smug triumph was there, waiting just below the surface. A humourless chuckle bubbled past my lips. "You're no different to him. Always scheming, always trying to get what you want, not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks. I should have _known_ this was happen the moment I met you. It only ever happens to me. You'd have thought I'd be more cautious, but no." I gave a hysterical laugh, hugging myself.

Light was rooted to the spot, watching as I showed the cracks that had been building for so long. I collapsed for a second time, the laughter turning into a howl. Flames flickered in the back of my mind, eating curtains and surrounding a chair occupied by a corpse. Black eyes glared at me hungrily, a knife glinting in the moonlight. Tears of exhaustion ran down my cheeks.

"Minerva?" said Light warily.

"Leave," I got out between cackles. "Leave me be. I'll be – I'll be fine in the morning."

The door unlocked, opened and shut. Cheeks almost crying with pain, I fell to my side and curled into a ball, trying to suppress every high pitched giggle.

What a pair we made. The boy who was losing his mind, and the girl who pretended she hadn't lost hers already.

* * *

TOWRTA: I wrote a different ending to this originally, but it was too similar to what I'd done previously, so I had to rework it. Much happier now. Minerva's finally lost it, or has she? In my opinion, I'm impressed it took her this long. Being stuck with Light would have sent me mad weeks before it got to her, especially if I had her past. Yikes.

Reply to Alex (anon): sorry, wasn't option 2. I hadn't even thought of that, honestly, before you mentioned it. Still, I hope you can appreciate this explanation for the fire; it makes both L _and_ Light guilty for Soichiro and Sachiko's demise. Mwahaha. I've hinted in here about what BB might have done too. Can you spot it?

Thank you to all the reviews, favourites and followers! I love hearing from you guys!

Next time: living together


	11. Fog

Chapter Ten

"V? V, are you alright?" Quinn quietly said in English, opening the door and slipping into the room. He took one look at me on the carpet and was instantly at my side.

"What happened?" he asked, his monotone holding a glimmer of the rage that was still simmering within me. With strength that belied his skinny body, he hauled me up and onto the bed. For a fleeting moment I recoiled, remembering Ryuk, but the Shinigami had left no trace of his recent occupation.

"It was nothing," I murmured, allowing myself to be mothered. The urge to laugh rested like a weight on my chest, waiting for me to rescind control to madness once more.

Quinn looked at me sharply. "Was it like BB?" I choked on air. One look in my brother's worried, angry, terrified face made me want to cry again. He'd been the one to find me in BB's room, only ten at the time, so of course he would remember what had happened. His fingers lightly tapped my left temple, just a little too close to my eye. I flinched at the reminder.

"No. He didn't try anything. Things have just been . . . getting to me." Quinn did not look convinced but he knew my stubbornness as much as I knew his, especially when it came to revealing personal information. So he let it go and instead dragged an easel, brush and palette over to the bed. He forced the brush and palette into my hands and scrounged up a blank canvas from one of the dark, over-crowded corners of the room. I loved my room – it was small, dark green, and had no windows to let bleaching sunlight in and harm my paintings, it being on the right side of the hallway. Every surface, from my desk to my chair to my drawers to the end of my bed, was covered in all manner of art supplies – pens, pencils, paints, brushes, palettes. Easels and canvases leaned against walls that were covered in drawings, stuck there by bluetack.

"You need to tidy up," he muttered, more to himself than me, as he fixed the canvas in place.

"Yes, mum."

His lips twitched into an almost-smile. It disappeared just as quickly as it came. He pointed at the canvas. "Paint. Now." There was nothing demanding in the way he said it – Quinn had always had the curious ability to make any order sound like a very pleasant request that you would feel guilty to ignore. It was something to do with the way he tilted his head down and added a slight tremor to his voice.

"What should I paint?" I was drawing a blank. Well, not quite, but I couldn't very well paint a knife and not have Quinn jump to conclusions about Light and I's confrontation.

"Anything. Something for Sayu."

I hummed, and a fire burned on the canvas. Not the one of my dreams, but the housefire.

"Q, can you grab my red?"

* * *

The door opened for a third time and to my surprise it wasn't Quinn checking on me again, or even Light coming back with his kaleidoscope of fake emotions. Sayu peeked around the door, her eyes red and puffy. She swallowed thickly and said, "I wasn't sure you would be awake," in a hoarse voice.

I checked the silent clock on my wall and saw it was well past three in the morning. For the past five hours I'd been focused on the painting.

"Come on in," I said quietly. She closed the door behind her and sat down on the bed, pressing herself into my side. For a few minutes we sat in silence, Sayu watching my brush on the canvas, leaving blazing trails of vermillion, amber and aureolin.

 _I take it back. No matter how similar they are, Sayu is better company than Light._

She broke the melancholy silence. "What are you painting?" Her voice had a hitch in it, like she was trying to avoid breaking into tears again.

"Well . . ." How would she react? This was her house, on fire, mere hours after the actual event that she was only just beginning to understand the implications of. Still, the girl was intelligent enough to figure it out for herself, and lying would be an insult to her.

"It's of your house." She nodded, like she had expected as much. Another swallow. Her hands were shaking slightly.

"What – what are the lights?" She pointed to the two ethereal balls of light hanging above the structure, not obvious in the face of the bright flames but unable to be ignored upon discovery.

Now, this was the part that might have sounded ridiculous if it wasn't three in the morning, a Shinigami wasn't next door and I wasn't in a complicated relationship with a supernatural serial killer. In all honesty, it sounded rather pleasing in comparison to my reality.

"Their souls. They were good people. I believe they will be rewarded."

"You think they'll go to Heaven?"

"Romans says ' _If you declare with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved._ '"

"They didn't believe in God."

"You never know what people will say in their final moments."

Sayu contemplated this in silence. For her, the concept of the Christian God wouldn't be foreign, but perhaps exotic. It was interesting that within literature all over the world, people wished to go to Heaven, but only few relayed the specifics of how to get there. In a Japanese society, it was probable that Sayu had never been brought up at Sunday School, learning of Jesus and his twelve disciples. Maybe her parents hadn't given it a second thought either. I hoped not. If God existed, I didn't want to know that Soichiro and Sachiko were in Hell because of societal unawareness.

"How do you remember that?" Sayu asked at length.

"What?"

"The quote."

 _Quote?_ "Oh, you mean the Bible verse. I was taught it."

"By who?" The fifteen-year-old turned to me, her eyes glassy with tears just waiting to be shed. She was looking for a distraction, something to take her mind off the lights above the house. She looked so fragile, so terrified under the careful mask of stoicism, that I couldn't refuse.

"Quinn and I were with a family in Canada for the past two years. We had run away from . . . home, and hitchhiked across the country." I spared her the details of the grisly condition we'd been in, having stowed away on a ship from England to Canada and then somehow survived the week it took to get to Thunder Bay, with no money and only a story of being orphans to commend us to sympathetic travellers. Quinn was even more stick thin by the end of it than he was now.

"When we made it to the town, well, we really couldn't keep going. Luckily, an elderly woman named Hiro Watazaki –" Sayu frowned. "Sorry; Watazaki Hiro. She had been taking a walk and found us at a park. She took us in, gave us something to eat, and never once told us to leave again. So we stayed. She taught us Japanese and one of her daughters was a school teacher, so she gave us lessons in the afternoon." Not that we needed them – the cirriculum at Whammy's was ridiculous in its intensity. Though I'd been unable to attend some of the classes, hearing from Quinn about the amount of homework they had was enough to make me wince.

"Granny Hiro lived on a hunting ground, at the lodge. Those were good days . . . Taking a bike out and just driving, for as long as I wanted. Painting until the sun set. Learning things without them being forced down my throat. Having _space_ for once. And Granny Hiro loved us. I know she did. We sat by the fire at night, her brushing my hair as I drew Quinn playing guitar. The rest of the family thought we were strays, runaways, not worth notice, but _she_ loved us until the end." I lapsed into silence, my mind full of afternoons spent by the lakeside with only a sketchpad, of conversing with Quinn in broken Japanese while doing our maths homework in her room, of being _wanted_ , _loved,_ as we had never known beyond our two-person family.

"The end?" Sayu inquired, breaking my reverie.

The door on happiness slammed shut and was replaced with angry faces, a quivering plea, and running again. I rubbed my eyes with paint-stained hands, trying to stop the onslaught of emotion. It had been over two months ago. I should have moved on by now.

"She died," I croaked, mortified by the crack in my words. Sayu sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands tentatively reached up to wrap me in a hug that was nothing like Light's calculating caresses and Quinn's bony embrace. I hiccupped and found myself clutching her, sobbing into her shoulder.

"They're dead," she whispered, and with that she burst into tears as well, pressing her face into my neck. "And Light doesn't care."

I froze. Gently, as though dealing with a injured wild animal, I shifted away and held her at arm's length, staring deep into her eyes. There was a pained ferocity there.

"What do you mean?" I asked hesitantly, though I understood her perfectly.

She sniffed, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "Light he –" she coughed. "He's been weird lately. And now, when he hugs me, it's not like Mum and Dad's, you know?" Her voice went up an octave, just on the underside of hysterical. "There's no love. It's like he doesn't care! And he just stares out the window and there's always something more important than me and I just – I don't know what to do!" With a cry of frustration she buried her face in her hands and broke down once more.

I sat back in a daze. Sayu knew? Or at least, could tell that there was something off with Light? Even with all his careful planning, all his acting and perfect words? Sayu was more empathetic than I had first assumed. It seemed Light got the head while Sayu got the heart.

"What should I do, Mi-chan?" It was barely above a whisper. I had to lean in to hear her properly.

 _First of all, tell me why I'm now Mi-chan._

"Give him some space. I'm sure he is just dealing with the stress of exams coming up and this on top of that –"

She shook her head adamantly. "Light's never been stressed by exams. He's too smart for that. And he hasn't even cried once since the fire! What is wrong with him, Mi-chan? You spend time with him now."

"I don't know." _Stop looking at me like that. I can't tell you anything. I have to lie for your own sake._ "If he's not back to normal in a week, tell me, okay? I'll talk to him."

Sayu shifted slightly, weighing up the proposal. After a time she nodded and said, quietly, "Can I stay with you tonight?"

With those teary, damaged eyes pleading with me, there was no way I could say no.

* * *

The funeral was on Thursday. Part of me was grateful for the distraction and a reason to get out of the house after four days of Quinn hiding in his room, Light staring at me assessingly and Sayu avoiding her brother by sticking to my side like glue. I loved them all (well, two of them), but like I'd told Sayu, I found having space to myself to be a precious commodity. So when all of us, dressed in black, left the apartment and stepped into limousine sent by L, I was glad.

At the funeral we sat in the front right-hand side, with the rest of the family. Quinn was at the aisle, then me, Sayu and finally Light. Again he was appropriately dejected, but compared to Sayu's silent sobbing he did not pull off 'grieving child' well. I might have told him to act a bit more unhappy, if only so L didn't suspect him even more of being a sociapath, if it wasn't for Watari staring at me from the back of the room. I could feel his gaze drilling into the back of my head. This was being broadcast to L, I just knew it.

There were ceramic urns were empty. Light had deemed it an insult to his parents that they be 'symbolised' with the ash of the house that had trapped and burned them alive. Their pictures watched us from beside the urns, Sachiko kind, Soichiro stern. I felt like I was being judged under their gazes from beyond the grave and found wanting.

Then it was over and Sayu and Light were standing at the graveside, surrounded by mist that clung like a blanket. Watari gestured for me to approach. With a careful glance at Light, I took Quinn's hand and we went to the elderly man.

"I have a message from Ryuzaki," said Watari quietly. Quinn's eyes were so wide it was comical. Then his expression crumpled into one of abject hatred and I was suddenly worried he would scream at the man like he had at L the day before we left the House.

"What is it?" I said, cutting off whatever speech Quinn was working up. He glanced at me in shock and anger.

"The deadline for the apartment has been moved up. You should be able to move in within two months."

"That's fast."

"It's slower than Ryuzaki would like but having a building built in a month is bound to raise questions, even in Tokyo."

"I see. Where will they stay?"

"Top floor."

I gave Quinn a sidelong glance and decided that him knowing the particulars wouldn't jeopardise the situation. He'd find out eventually.

"Will Ryuzaki be staying there too?"

"Yes. He and the task force will use to building as their headquarters. It's security is top of the line."

"That's good. Thank you, Watari." The old man bowed, placed his hat back on his head, and left the gates of the cemetery to where his car waited. Was L in there with him?

"V?" Quinn did not look impressed. At all.

"Yeah?"

"How long have you been talking to _Ryuzaki_?"

"Heh." I cast around for something to take his attention away from the conversation but there were only rows of tombstones, disappearing into the fog within forty feet. It was rare to have such heavy mist in the capital I had been told, but apparently the weather thought our trek into the resting place of the dead required a horror-movie atmosphere to make the occasion worth it.

" _V_."

"Fine," I groaned, running a hand through my hair, and realised at Quinn's frown that I was copying Light. I quickly dropped my hand. "Watari picked me up on New Years. I saw him again last night and that's it."

"What did he want?"

"Uh . . ." _"You've grown, Valerie."_ For some reason it was that comment that stuck in my head and some childish urge to blush reared its head. "He wants us to go back to the House, for our own protection."

Quinn's fists clenched. "No," he spat. "Never again."

"That's what I told him."

"Good. We aren't going back." His eyes flashed. "Let's go home." He stormed over to Sayu, taking her hand and murmuring to her. Light looked over at me, Ryuk hovering by his shoulder. I nodded my head slightly and turned away to gaze at the gravestones swallowed by fog. That reminded me; I never saw Granny Hiro's gravesite.

* * *

At home Ryuk stuck himself to my side until I grabbed three apples and went to my bedroom. He ate them hungrily as he always did, his sharp teeth tearing into the flesh and sending juice spraying over his chin. It was a gruesome sight, but also amusing to see apple juice dripping off his chin.

"Tell me something, Ryuk." I stripped off to my singlet and underwear, uncaring of the Shinigami present. He'd explained that death gods had no reproductive organs and therefore didn't care one iota about the naked bodies of humans. They didn't possess the hormones to feel lust. It was one of the many things he'd told me in the past few days, even when Sayu was in the room.

"What do you want to know?"

Dragging on a pair of paint-splattered jeans and an old checkered shirt from Granny Hiro's twenty-year-old grandson, I stood in front of the burning house painting and examined it, analysing the colour palette and the shadows. In a moment of spontaneity, I copied Ryuk in his apple-withdrawal stage and did a handstand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, floating upside down beside me.

"Checking if the shadows are right. If they're done wrong you can check by putting the picture upside down and seeing if it looks like its floating instead of attached to a floor."

"Why not just turn over the painting?"

"That's no fun." The house was a little disconnected from the ground at one of the corners. With ease I dropped down from the handstand. "And you say you're adventurous."

"Hehe, who's the one who dropped a Death Note in the human world?"

"Touché. So tell me, how long have you been around?" To my surprise, Ryuk handed my palette and brush before I asked for them. At my questioning glance he held up his last apple and bit into it.

"No idea. As long as there have been people to write names of."

"And how long is that?"

"Didn't keep track of time."

I groaned. "Of course you didn't. Still, know any good stories?"

Ryuk hummed, falling onto my bed silently except for the jangling of his belt and earring. "Wanna know about Jack the Ripper?"

I turned to him in astonishment. "You know who he was?"

"Uh huh."

At that moment there was a knock at the door. It opened and Sayu came in. Her eyes weren't bloodshot, for the first time all week, and her hair was wet.

"Hey, Mi-chan, were you talking to someone?"

"Not anyone important."

"Hey!" Ryuk exclaimed.

"Oh." Sayu crept into the room, avoiding the numerous sketches and pencils littering the floor. She sat herself on the bed, sinking straight through Ryuk's stomach. The death god yelped again and floated over to the window, casting a shadow only I could see.

"So . . ." The girl swung her legs back and forth. "How's the painting?"

"Give me a few more days and it'll be done."

"Can I have it when it is?"

"You want it?"

"Yeah . . . it's nice to think they're in Heaven right now, watching us." Ryuk started to cackle and I threw a pencil from my pocket across the room at him. Sayu blinked. "What was that for?"

"Sorry, saw a fly. Hate those things." Ryuk only laughed louder. "Anyway, sure. You can have the painting. Do you want me to name it?"

"Name it . . ." Sayu frowned thoughtfully, staring into space as she thought. A light clicked on in her eyes. "Oh! Name it Tengoku. It means paradise."

I smiled. "Sounds good."

There was another knock at the door, and Light's copper head appeared. "Hey, Minerva, have you seen –" he broke off, stumped at the sight of both Sayu and Ryuk hanging in my room. His mask slipped a tiny bit and his eyes narrowed.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked politely. I recognised the undercurrent of annoyance well enough to know Sayu and Ryuk weren't invited to listen in.

"Sure thing. Give me a sec." Sayu took my painting things from me and I followed Light to his room. He and Sayu were sharing at the end of the hall, in the newly refurbished space done by some men L hired under my name. In reality Sayu had been spending most nights with me since they moved in. The room itself was spartan, with whitewashed walls, two single beds, bedside tables, a wardrobe and one desk that Light had appropriated. I wondered where he was hiding his Death Note now.

As soon as the door was closed he whirled on me.

"So this is your plan, is it? To take my only family and Ryuk from me to show how alone I am?"

"What? No! Why in the world would I do that?"

"It won't make a difference, Minerva. I won't stop changing the world."

It took all my willpower not to explode at him like I so wanted to, because that might end up with me giggling hysterically as he cycled through his different facial expressions again, and _that_ hadn't been fun.

"No," I said calmly. "I'm not trying to stop you. You have to decide that all on your own. Just know the longer you do this, the worse the consequences will be."

"I'm getting bored of your constant advice, Minerva."

"Then stop doing things that make me give it."

"How about I stop _you_ ," he muttered. I probably wasn't supposed to hear it, but I still jerked, both disturbed and horrified. Those feelings disappeared though, when I remembered one vital fact. I smirked.

"Unless you're willing to do something that doesn't involve a pen, I'm not going anywhere."

It took him a second to click. "Minerva Catearro isn't your real name?"

"Nope." Just for fun, I spoke in English, my strange French-English-Canadian accent shining through. "And until you burn that book, you'll never know what it is. Sorry, mate." I patted him on the shoulder. "I lied. You're never going to truly be alone. You're stuck with me."

Light's fingers twitched. Before I knew what was happening, he had me around the waist and flush against him. He leaned in close, his breath feathering over my skin. So disorientated by his sudden mood swing, – honestly, I should have been used to them by now – I didn't pull away.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad thing," he whispered.

I slapped him. His head snapped to the side with a crack. His grip tightened.

"What was that for?" He sounded almost like his old self, but the fire in his eyes was scary. I remembered the time I'd seen him from the art room, when he saw the Death Note for the first time. That bright, blazing red was back, and this time it was directed at me. I gulped.

"To snap some sense into you," I said. "Sayu's noticed it. You aren't acting normal anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Like I told you before, you have to feel _something_ for your parents. People know when you're putting on a show. Sayu can see that there's something else on your mind."

"Hmm." One of his fingers tapped my tailbone.

"And you have to control these mood-swings. If someone ever sees you switching like you did on Monday, they are going to have you committed as insane."

"Takes one to know one," he said lightly. I glowered.

"Let me go. Your sister is waiting for me." I struggled to wrest myself from his grasp but he had arms of steel. He chuckled.

"I don't think so. We have things to discuss."

"Like what?"

"What you were talking to that man at the cemetery about, for starters."

"You saw that?"

He gave me a look that clearly said ' _duh_ '.

"It was –" His hand covered my mouth.

"If you say 'nothing' I will tie you to the bed." He removed his hand before I did something I'd regret, like bite it.

"Why is _that_ your first threat?"

"Because other ones won't work." He leaned forwards, his breath hot on my ear. "And think of what your brother will say when he finds you."

A snarl twisted my mouth. "He was a representative of L, okay? He told me they are building a new headquarters that you two can move into in two months."

A frown flitted across Light's face. "And you too?"

"I . . ." actually, would we move in? For whatever reason, I had always assumed Quinn and I would be joining the siblings, and neither L nor Watari had said anything contrary, but . . . was I willing to sacrifice more of my freedom?

"Sayu needs you," Light said quickly. I scowled.

"Only because she has a useless big brother." He raised an eyebrow. "Fine, Quinn and I will be there too." And like that, Light's face relaxed from its pensive frown. I rolled my eyes. "You are too possessive, Yagami."

He smirked. "Only of things I want."

* * *

TOWRTA: In my honest opinion, Light is a bit of a cretin, wouldn't you agree? Still, he's fun to write, though it takes a bit of time to make sure he doesn't go too OOC. After the great response from the argument in the last chapter, I'm not sure this compares, but you get a bit of Minerva's past and Quinn got developed more! Woo! (And I'm loving that everyone's questions are mostly 'what in the world did BB do to her?')

Alex (anon): Mate, your long reviews are fantastic! Hope this answered some of your questions about what Quinn knows of her interaction with BB and in the future you'll see a lot more of how important Quinn is to Minerva's life and sanity. And it's not just BB that messed with Minerva's mind (mwahaha); her problems are a bit deeper than just him. See you soon!

Guest (anon): I watched the anime recently and Light mentioned that he was sure that L meant for him to find some of the cameras, considering there were a ridiculous number of them (above 40, I think). So it's not too much of a shock for L that Light knew of them too. And you, like everyone else, will have to find out what BB did in time! Ahaha! See you soon!

To everyone who is following, reviewing, favouriting or just stalking me from beyond the ether; You are all fabulous! You make me want to continue writing!

Oh, btw: I'm not going to update for a while. Got study and exams for the next six weeks. Then summer! We'll have to see how it goes.

Next Time: what did BB do?


	12. Knife

TOWRTA: Real quick note: to those who read the previous chapter before the edit, I lied about Misa. The amount of plot points I had to cover before getting to Misa was a bit larger than I'd anticipated. But I have an inkling this will sate your appetites.

Again, unedited. Wanted to get it up.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

"Hisashi-sensei?" I knocked on the doorframe, peering into the dark art room. There was a startled exclamation, followed by the sound of canvases falling to the floor. I knew that sound well. With a grin, I found my way into the back room where Miss Hisashi was muttering to herself as she picked up the mess she'd created and placed the dried paintings back in the shelved boxes set up for the third year's exposé. To my amusement, my box was the one she'd managed to knock over.

"You startled me, Minerva-chan," she said, slotting in the portrait of Mikoto and Nozomi by the windows on one of our few snowy days this winter. "I was just making sure everything was in order for the exhibition."

"Find anything wrong?"

"Not at all. Though, between you and me." She glanced around as though there may be someone else in the small space listening in, and lowered her voice. "Yours are the best by far."

I grinned again, wider. "Thanks, Hisashi-sensei." We stepped out of the room, Miss Hisashi closing the door carefully behind her and locking it with a padlock only she and the principal had the key to. Not even the cleaners were allowed in the room, in case they damage any of the artwork. It was Miss Hisashi's job – and mine, in recent weeks – to clean it.

"So what brings you here, Minerva-chan? I thought classes were over for the day."

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," I replied, watching her go to her desk and pull out and riffle through drawers.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, about what I'm going to be doing after school . . ."

"Aha!" She triumphantly tugged out a thick envelope, sending several pencils flying. With a loud bang she shoved the drawer back in and came over, slapping the envelope into my hands.

"What's this?" It had my name scrawled on the front in handwriting close, but not quite the same as the art teacher's.

"Your latest payment from the gallery. Apparently the customer paid in cash. My sister's already taken her share – retail mark up price, and whatnot – and here's the rest."

"Oh! Thanks, Hisashi-sensei!" Great. Something to pay for the rest of the week's grocery's. We'd been running low on eggs again, among other things. Sayu and Light were obsessed with potato chips. "Have you talked to her about pre-paying yet?"

"The gallery is still in its infancy so it may be a while before she can pay you before hand, but don't worry! Apparently your artwork has made its popularity shoot through the roof!"

"Right." I would never be good at taking compliments like that. Miss Hisashi's beaming face seemed much too impressed to be referring to my work, but I wouldn't say that aloud. It tended to annoy people. "Anyway, about once the school year ends?"

She bobbed her head, already turning to fix up some of the easels and generally tidying after the last art class. It was a habit of hers to never stand still unless she was talking herself or painting.

"I was wondering if there was a job vacancy here, at the school . . ."

She whirled around, eyes gleaming. "You took the words out of my mouth! Ever since the tutoring sessions started up I've been discussing with Principle Kurosaki about having you come on full time. He's taken some convincing. He says that if I can get you to agree, he'll think about it."

"Really?" This was ludicrous. She nodded again.

"Art has boomed in terms of student-interest since you came here. Principal Kurosaki just wants to know what sort of money he can make off of it. After all, we are more of a science and law school here. I'm hoping the gallery will get the parents to donate more to this part of the curriculum and if that happens you can come work here as soon as next term!"

My mind was blank. "I . . . uh . . . really?" Miss Hisashi's face fell and I scrambled to bring back that smile. "This is great! I never expected to get a job here and this is fantastic!"

"Isn't it? We're going to work together." She rubbed her hands together with glee, looking like she was about to burst with happiness. Then sobriety took over. "This gallery has to be excellent, though. I'm expecting nothing but the best from you, Minerva-chan."

I nodded sincerely. "Of course, Hisashi-sensei."

"Now, you better get home. Isn't today the day Yagami-san is taking his To-Oh entrance examination? Poor boy, having to do it so soon after his parents' demise. You should get dinner ready for him so he doesn't have more stress to deal with."

"You haven't told anyone he's staying with me, right?"

"'Course not! Now go, we both have things to be doing."

* * *

Buzzing from the news, I gave a jaunty wave to the receptionist, who responded with a lascivious wink, and bounded in the elevator. The whole way up my mind was a whirl with the idea of having a steady job that I loved, of finally being able to pay for myself rather than rely on the trust fund Granny Hiro had set up – a fund that was quickly being depleted with two additional people to care for.

The doors opened. "Hey, Quinn!" I called, throwing my bag onto the kitchen bench and sliding my hair free from its ponytail.

I drew up short. Light was sitting on the couch, arm slung over the back, in avid conversation with my little brother. He glanced up and frowned frustratedly at me. Quinn jerked back at my arrival and jumped off the couch to meet me. His school uniform hung of his gangly frame; apparently his talk with Light was so enthralling he hadn't bothered to change as he usually did upon returning home. Alarm bells were clanging over my thoughts.

"V," he said, appearing almost guilty. "You're back."

"Yes, I am." Cautiously, I stepped into the living room, glancing around for Ryuk. He was nowhere to be seen. "How was school?"

"Good. I've got homework to do, though." With a slight wave, he veritably fled to his room, snatching his bag up from its place by the couch. As soon as the door shut I rounded on Light.

He held up his hands. "We were only talking."

"Don't you _dare_ bring Quinn into this!" I snarled, advancing until I was just out of arm's reach. No way was I letting him throw me off balance right now. "Anything to do with Kira, to do with _us_ , does not include him."

Light sighed and checked his nails. "Who's being possessive now?"

"Not the point. What were you talking about?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't ask you about your conversations with Sayu, do I?"

"I'm not possibly trying to get a last name out of her to kill her off, unlike _someone._ "

"I'm disappointed you think so little of me, Mi-chan."

"Answer me!"

"Fine." He slouched back, throwing his legs onto the couch and lacing his fingers behind his head. "I was telling him about the strange guy I saw at the exam hall today. Want to ask me how the test went?"

He was toying with me, I knew it, he knew it, and he was enjoying my frustration. I must have interrupted him and Quinn at some crucial point for him to retaliate in such an irritating manner. Then again, this was Light, heir-apparent to the crown of irritating, after L.

"No. You did excellently, I'm sure. You'll have me ironing your suit soon for the entrance ceremony while you recite your speech, blah, blah, blah. What about this guy was so interesting?"

"Want to guess?"

"Light!"

"His hair, his eyes, the way he sat. There was something off about him."

"The way he . . . sat?" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn't be . . .

"Legs tucked under himself, without shoes."

 _Don't do anything suspicious._ "Oh?"

Light's eyes narrowed. "Yes. He was told off by the supervisor."

"Sounds strange. What do you want for dinner to celebrate the test?" I went into the kitchen, trying to hide the shaking of my hands.

"Quinn seemed to know who he was."

"Really? I've never met anyone like him."

"Is that so?"

"Yup. Steak or pad thai?"

"Pad thai, it's Sayu's favourite."

"Got it." I grabbed a wok and placed it on the stovetop. Next thing I knew my wrists were grasped and I was twisted around, the granite jutting into my lower spine. Light loomed much to close. I tried for nonchalance. "Can I help you?" To my pleasure there was nothing to denote the nerves burning in my chest.

Light hummed, scanning my eyes. Apparently he found nothing there for his grip loosened just a bit.

"You shouldn't lie to me, Minerva," he murmured.

I was saved from replying but a hesitant "Light?" We looked over as one and saw Sayu standing at the end of the hallway, her face showing her confusion.

"Yeah?" Light said, not moving away.

"I wanted to ask how the test went." She walked further into the room, gaze darting from her brother to his hands on my wrist to my back against the counter.

"You should ask him about the guy he saw there," I said, forcing a smile. "Apparently there was some strange dude at the testing centre who sat hunched over like a monkey."

"Really?" Sayu's face lit up and she sat down on the couch, ready for the story. Light shot me a look that said _this isn't over._ I impetuously winked and slid away. Sayu's mouth was open as I walked past to Quinn's room.

At my knock he called, "Come in," in a way that was obviously meant to be relaxed but failed. He didn't have as much practise as I did, and hopefully never would.

I leaned on the door once inside, folding my arms. His room was much tidier than mine, manuscript paper on shelves next to folders and music books, the ajar door to his ensuite showing perfectly clean tiles. His instruments were in an orderly line at the back wall where a large window let in the afternoon sun. Quinn himself was stretched on his bed, scowling at the ceiling.

"So," I said slowly. "Did you tell Light?"

"No," he said sullenly. "You'd get angry."

A sigh escaped my lip before I could stop it. Quinn sat up, abashed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"No, don't worry about it." Running a hand over my face, I sat down heavily on his bed. He immediately shifted to be as close as possible, my arm going around him like it was a second nature. "I should be sorry. I've just been tired lately. Too much to do, you know."

He hummed, hair falling in his eyes. "Why don't you want me talking to Light?"

Another sigh. "He's dangerous, Q. I can't tell you why, but you have to be careful around him."

"So no telling him about L?"

"Never."

"Okay." He was so downcast, so sombre, that I had to press a kiss to his hair and hug him tight.

"You are the best brother a girl could ask for, you know? I'll never let anything happen to you, Quinn."

Quinn nodded, his nose rubbing along my neck. "Love you, V," he mumbled into my skin.

"Love you too, Q."

* * *

 _"_ _Beyond Birthday, the serial killer of the L.A. BB murders in 2002, was pronounced dead this morning, as of 7:16 am, on the 21_ _st_ _of January 2004 –"_

Quinn switched off the television, turning to me worriedly. I had no words for him, no platitudes of my wellbeing, no comfort. I stumbled to my feet, hands working their way into my shirt, tearing, ripping the fabric apart as I staggered into my bathroom. It was as though the skin of my back was burning, searing deep into bone. In the mirror I saw the scars on my back, thick and white, reaching from my shoulder blades to the base of my spine. How could I have forgotten? I'd spent too long ignoring them, repressing every thought of him and every memory of the days before and after he attacked me. Canada had been two years spent avoiding any reminder and creating habits to ensure that, like never turning around when near a mirror, and since Granny Hiro's passing life had been such a whirlwind there was no time to dwell.

But now he was _dead._ He wasn't alive in the world, thinking of me. He no longer existed. Now no one except me knew what had happened in that room.

The scars stared back at me in the mirror, mocking, laughing, sending me spiralling.

Shiny, bumpy cords spelling out _BB._

* * *

"Valerie, can I talk to you?"

I nodded at my friend and jumped off L's desk. "See ya, L." He inclined his head, his gaze drilling into my back as I left the dark, sparse room and followed BB through the rich, gilded hallways of the Whammy Orphanage, past the classrooms on the ground floor where evening lessons were taking place before dinner. Quinn caught my eye from one of the them, his expression exasperated as the tutor droned on in front of a blackboard, writing out equations in chalk. From beside him, Mello was equally as bored, munching on a piece of chocolate he'd pilfered from the kitchens. Chef Mayron would not be impressed. He sent me a disdainful glare and whacked Quinn upside the head. My hands fisted.

"Valerie?" Unwillingly, I moved away from the door, vowing to get revenge on the brat later. At the age of eleven, he was a menace to the other kids at Whammy House and even after six years he still picked on my brother the most. This was the last straw.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously as we walked down the boy's corridor of the dormitory floor. Each door was painted in different colours and designs, done by yours truly during a week of boredom. The rest of the kids had been surprisingly excited to tell me what they wanted, especially Quinn – his was a mosaic of music notes, clefs and natural signs among other musical notation, painted blue and gold. Mello's was textured to appear like brown leather, Near's a pure white jigsaw. L didn't have a room on this floor.

The door we stopped at was purely black. Boring, I'd said at the time. BB had shrugged and said there was nothing else that could represent him better. In my naivety I had not questioned him.

"I've got something I want to show you," he said, letting me in. The room beyond was dark and cluttered, the curtains thrown open to capture the moonlight that shone over the empty field behind the house where a tennis court, playground and swimming pool sat, the water gleaming incandescently. Picking my way through school debris, completed homework and essays to spare, I noticed a piece of paper with my name written on it. Curious, I picked it up. My curiosity quickly turned to horror.

"BB, what is this?"

"Hmm?" He leaned on the door, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, his dark hair shadowing his eyes. Always the black, with him. Black eyes, black hair, black clothes. In one of his hands was a hunting knife, its handle as black as his door. I was starting to regret coming in.

"Have – have you been watching me?" The paper was filled with observations, notes on my behaviours, my interactions with the other students. Most notably was the amount of speculation of my relationship with L. Disturbing speculation.

"Yes." His expression did not change from its studied blankness.

"Why?"

"Because you interest me."

From the amount of data he'd collected, it seemed as though he found me more than interesting. I cast around, looking for more hints about what he thought of me, when I noticed a ominous trend in his choice of posters. 'L's hacked into walls, written with what almost appeared to be blood, written so angrily the poster paper had torn. L, L, L, L, L. L was everywhere. Omniscient and watching all the time. It wasn't me that interested BB, it was L. I was only one of the many details in the great detective's life that BB had made it his duty to know everything about. There was something very sickening in all of this.

BB wandered closer, not caring of the papers he crunched underfoot, crowding me towards the bed. "Why do you matter to him?" he said, not really asking me so much as wondering aloud. I backed up and my legs hit the bed frame, sending me falling onto the mattress. In an instant he was there, one fist jammed into my abdomen, the other trailing the knife down my bare neck.

"What do you want?" I choked out, barely able to keep in my lunch as his knuckles dug deeper. Fear was rushing over me like a wave, fear I hadn't felt in a long time. It was smothering, cloying, settling on my chest like an old friend who'd once stripped me bare without me even knowing.

"To know _why_." He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face, black eyes huge and hungry. "Why are you so important when he barely even _looks_ at me? What makes you special? What makes you different?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all, I swear!" I cried, too scared to twist out of his grasp for fear of that knife at my collarbone. His free hand curled around my shoulder with a strength that made the bones feel as though they were about to break. I gasped in pain.

"There has to be something," he snarled. "Why would the great detective take notice of a worthless girl like you? You can't even sleep without screaming."

"I don't know! I don't know!"

"You're weak, you're pathetic, and yet he lets you stay with him. I. Don't. Understand." With every word the knife pressed deeper, grinding against my collarbone and drawing blood that pooled and spilled over, dripping off my neck and onto his duvet. "He just needs to see how worthless you really are. How he can do so much better." He shifted away, the pressure releasing from my shoulder. Tears of relief ran down my temples as I tried to find the strength to escape. My body felt as weak as a newborn, unwilling to comply to my demands. It was the sound of a bunsen burner lighting, something I recognised from chemistry class, that had me shooting upright. He was at his bedside table, the blue flame visible under his arm. Why did he have a bunsen burner? Why?

The terrible possibilities raced through my mind as I scrambled off the bed and rushed for the door. There was a snarl from behind me and I was tackled to the floor, my head smacking the door handle as I went down. Groaning, feeling my skin split open, I tried to kick him off. He was too strong – he had six years on me at least, being the second oldest student at the House after L, and at twenty-two he was at his prime. I screamed and scratched at him but he easily dragged me over the carpet, uncaring of the burns I got on my stomach when my shirt rode up.

He threw me onto the bed, wrenching my arms as he did so, and straddled my back. With cool hands, he cut into my shirt, careful not to pierce my skin with his blade.

"Let me go, let me go," I begged, scrabbling for purchase, for a pillow, for anything to get me out of here.

"L needs to be shown the truth," he said and I saw him move out the corner of my eye. He held the knife over the burner's flame, the blade glowing red, orange, yellow, white. A scream worked its way out of my throat. My struggles intensified.

"You're nothing but his toy, Valerie. I'm going to break you. Then he'll see me." He laughed.

The second the searing point touched my skin I thought I was going to die for the pain.

* * *

 _Part of me wishes I had._

* * *

TOWRTA: Okay, I swear Misa is here next chapter, promise, and that one is half-way finished so it shouldn't be long now.

Alex (anon): "the power of the eyebrows is strong with this one . . ." Heh. Sorry, no Misa. She's coming though, and with her comes changes in the dynamics of Minerva and Light, Quinn and Sayu getting involved somehow (imagine Sayu shouting 'Mi-chan!' and Misa turning to answer her. Awkward scenarios abound) and so much more! Was this chapter enough for now though?

Yes, here it was. The dreaded answer to _'what did BB do?'_ But is this everything? Or did he continue on from just the knife? You will have to wait.

Next time: Misa Misa. Finally.


	13. Escher

Chapter Twelve

 _"_ _V? V, are you okay? V? V!"_

 _"_ _Minerva? What's wrong with her?"_

 _"_ _Mi-chan!"_

 _"_ _V, you have to wake up. Please, snap out of it. Come on, please! PLEASE!"_

 _"_ _MINERVA!"_

"Minerva-san?"

I jolted up, blinking, bleary eyed and not completely aware of where I was. Kuroda stared back, worried. Light was on the other side of the chemistry table, arms crossed and body language saying he was ready to jump to my aid if necessary. I smiled wanly, caught sight of the bunsen burner still aflame on our bench top, and shuddered. He frowned and switched off the gas.

"Are you okay? You were muttering in your sleep," said Kuroda, bypassing social boundaries and touching my forehead. I knocked his hand away, knowing there was nothing outwardly wrong with me. It was my mind that was the trouble.

"Don't worry about it. Only a bad dream. Didn't get enough sleep last night." I yawned and stretched. "So, are we done with the experiment?"

"Yup. Yagami and I finished it off. Best grade in the class." He grinned. Light rolled his eyes.

"No thanks to you, Nakamura. You talked to Kimio the whole time."

"I know! We're going out this weekend. Isn't it awesome?"

I chuckled and rested my chin in my palm, relieved to listen to something that wasn't my own screaming or Light's schemes for once. Of course Ryuk was still here, hovering at Light's shoulder as usual, but ever since my breakdown in the bathroom he'd kept his distance. I was unsettled by the fact that I missed the Shinigami a little. Determined to get rid of any fondness for the creature, I had avoided him as best I could. It had worked well enough for the past month. Consequently, it also meant avoiding Light.

"Oh yeah, the gallery's opening tonight, isn't it?" Kuroda's comment snapped me to attention. That had been my other project for February; finishing all my paintings for the exhibition. Miss Hisashi would be proud. Nothing like a little mental trauma to instil a good work ethic.

"Uh huh. Opening night. Don't know why they chose a Thursday for it."

"Our school always has weird dates. The graduation ceremony is next Thursday."

"Already?"

"Yup."

"What are you going to be doing after high school then?"

"Travel. Parents told me to go to university, so _I'm_ going to Spain."

"Going to take Kimio with you?"

Kuroda sighed, catching sight of the girl on the other side of the classroom, dressed in the standard issue white lab coat and plastic glasses given to all students when around dangerous chemicals.

"I wish," he said, his expression wistful. Light and I shared a wry glance.

 _Oh, that reminds me._

"I'm not going to be at lunch with you, Light. I'm meeting up with Mikoto and Nozomi at the art rooms."

He schooled his expression into one of polite interest but I could see the hardening of his eyes. He did not like me going out of his sight lately. I couldn't blame him.

"What for?"

"They wanted a sneak peek at my gallery paintings. Since they modelled for some of them I promised a viewing."

His fingers twitched and curled into a fist on the tabletop. There was obviously something on the tip of his tongue, trying to push its way into the open. With a deep breath, he unclenched his hand and said, "I'll see you at the exhibition then?"

"Yeah," I replied, scrutinising him. "It doesn't close until late though, and it's going on 'til the closing ceremony next week, so you and Quinn will have to cook dinner. See if you can get Sayu to help too, while you're at it. Heaven knows she needs to learn sometime." It was kind of nice knowing that there were people home who could keep Quinn company while I was busy.

He nodded, thought for a moment, then took Kuroda aside, whispering into his friend's ear. Kuroda shot me a glance, smirked, and punched Light in the shoulder.

"'Course. Have fun." He winked at me. The bell went and he drifted over the Kimio, to be greeted with a fond, if exasperated, smile. Light had disappeared by the time I looked back and Mikoto peeked around the classroom door, gesturing at me frantically. Rolling my eyes and ignoring the phantom burning in my back, I went over to the girl.

"So, how's Yagami-san doing?" she asked as we walked to meet up with Nozomi at the art rooms.

"Better. He's concentrating on getting life sorted for him and his sister while he's at university."

"He's turned eighteen now. He can get an apartment for him and Sayu. You know there's one free in my building."

I made some noncommittal sound and waved at Nozomi when we entered the art room. She was staring at an easel, brow furrowed. When we came to her side I saw it was the skeleton painting.

"What's wrong?" Mikoto asked.

"Light . . . he's been so sad lately."

Mikoto became even more downtrodden. "I know. Ever since his parents died . . . it's been so hard on him. Oh, how lucky he is to have you, Minerva-san." Her weak smile was grateful, but insincere. She wished she was in my place, 'taking care' of Light. All of the girls at Daikoku Academy, apart from maybe Ayako, were the same. Strangely enough, they'd decided that the best way to get information on Light was to talk to me about his wellbeing, handing me a strange popularity that was at times amusing and at others plain weird.

"Maybe we could make a cake to cheer him up!" Mikoto exclaimed, coming alive in the company of her friend. "We didn't celebrate his birthday, after all."

"Mikoto!" Nozomi admonished. "I told you, he needs to be left alone to deal with the trauma. Losing his parents in a fire is horrible. He doesn't need you or anyone else prying."

"I _know,_ but it's been over two months now! Surely he doesn't need so much time."

"Why don't you talk to him at the gallery tonight?" I suggested quickly. "He's going to be there and I'm sure he'd love to talk to you. Just don't bring up his parents and it should be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well . . ." said Nozomi, crossing her arms. "Maybe two months is long enough . . ."

"Yay! I get to talk to Light!" Mikoto squealed, clapping her hands. "I could find out where he's staying now."

"Probably with a family friend, I already told you," said Nozomi.

"But you can't be _sure._ Apparently Kuroda told Kimio who told Niijima that Light is staying at a _girl's_ house. I want to know who!"

Laughing quietly, I sat down at one of the benches and pulled out my lunch. The two girls joined me and were soon in heated discussion about who Light and Sayu lived with now. As soon as they suggested he might have been recruited by L for the Kira case I tuned out and focused my attention inward, at the gnawing in my chest that was growing stronger by the day. I needed to paint something, and soon. Maybe Quinn would model for me tonight after the exhibition, if he was still awake. There was the sneaking suspicion in my mind that painting more of Light would only make the gnawing worse.

* * *

Someone had painted a still-life of a kitchen. It was well executed, gaining inspiration from Escher, but my eyes were drawn to the knife block hiding in the corner, right next to an unlit stove. Unwittingly, my fingers began to tug at the hem of my shirt, inching their way up to the scars on my back as my breathing elevated out of my control.

 _White-hot metal, laughing, pain beyond measure._

 _Pain, pain, pain. Stop, please, stop. Let me go._

 _I don't want to live anymore._

 _Make it stop._

Hands grasped mine, warm and strong, unbending my fingers from their choke hold and interlacing them with theirs. Light's chin came down on my shoulder, his hair a comforting tickle on my cheek.

"Calm down," he said. "There's no bathroom for you to run to here."

I managed to force a laugh. "You need to work on your bedside manner, mate." I pushed back the panic, allowing his presence to drag me into reality and keep me grounded. He wrapped his arms around my waist, my fingers still caught in his.

"How long until this closes?" I asked quietly, letting my head rest on his shoulder.

"Another hour."

"I want to go home."

"I know."

"Where are Quinn and Sayu?"

"Kuroda promised to take them home for us. Ryuk's with them."

"How'd you swing that?"

"I made a deal."

"Ah."

"Ahem, Yagami-san?" We turned together to see Mikoto standing nervously behind us, Nozomi by her side. She smiled fleetingly. Nozomi kept her eyes trained on a bird's-eye-view of the school courtyard, students dotted over the grass and pathways like strangely coloured flowers.

Light broke away, saying, "You'll want to talk to Minerva. I won't keep you."

"Oh, no!" Mikoto exclaimed. Nozomi's head snapped around, eyes wide. "We want to talk to you, Light-kun!"

"Me?"

"Yes! We haven't talked in ages!"

Light shot me a glance, the beginnings of a smirk dancing over his lips. "Ah, yes. I've missed our conversations. Shall we?" He gestured for them to lead the way towards the back of the assembly hall that was being used for the gallery. I mustered a scowl in retaliation to his smug expression but it dropped as soon as he turned his back. There wasn't enough feeling left in my body at the moment to handle anything more than a polite smile, which I exploited heavily as I made my rounds, explaining various art pieces, playing host and generally making sure Principal Kurosaki saw the interest parents were taking in the artwork.

The turnout was impressive, considering that for most of this school year there had been rumours of the art classes being dropped in favour of more sports funding. Sponsors, board members, parents, students from both the upper and middle school, and friends of family milled around the assembly hall, quiet chatter hovering just below the average talking level. Students stood with their hands behind their backs under the watchful gazes of teachers and parents while surreptitiously gossiping over who created what and what each artist was doing outside of classes. Parents conversed with staff and each other, boasting of their children. Principal Kurosaki Asashi was in the far corner of the cavernous, wood-floored space, rubbing his hands together to get some heat in them and seeming as though he was trying his hardest to tune out his secretary's ramblings as she flicked through page after page on her clipboard. She hadn't left his side all evening.

Upon seeing my attention on him, he said something to his young assistant and left her, weaving his way through the crowd to where I stood. The woman looked affronted, yet she managed to smooth her expression, pursing her lips and setting off in the opposite direction.

"Catearro-san," the principal greeted, bowing. I responded in kind. "How are you and your brother finding my school?"

"It's wonderful, Principal Kurosaki. It's been a pleasure."

"Good, good." He trailed off, his attention wandering over the heads of the visitors. He spotted something and grimaced. "Ah, Hisashi-sensei has discussed the proposition with you, I trust?"

"Yes."

"You will have your answer by the closing ceremony."

"Thank you, Principal. I'd love to work here."

"Yes, well, we'll see," he said, frowning over my shoulder. I followed his line of sight and saw a group of students from Kuroda's class whispering to themselves, a closed circle made of sailor uniforms and dark heads. "If you'll excuse me," said the principal, nodding curtly and moving to break up the bunch who could be heard above the room's noise.

 _Pain, pain, pain. Stop, please, stop. Let me go._

Groaning, I rubbed my forehead, curling my hands into fists to stop them ripping my shirt from my body to escape the burning of my back.

 _"_ _I'm going to break you."_

 _Shut up!_

Someone tapped my shoulder. "Are you Catearro Minerva?" asked a mother, her eyes kind and inquisitive. And just like that I was swept back into the swing of tours, explanations and waving away compliments, keeping my hands firmly in my jacket pockets. When I passed the Escher-inspired painting again blood began to run down my palms from my fingernails biting too deep.

The hall finally emptied at ten, right on closing time. Miss Hisashi offered to walk the principal and his secretary out, winking to me as she did so. The double doors of the hall locked with a snick, able to opened only with a key or from the inside, meaning the gallery was safe to stay set up for the week.

I groaned again, rolling out my shoulders and slumping to the floor. Only five more days of this. This wouldn't be impossible. Then there would be all the time needed to regain a grasp on reality. I was slipping, I knew it, had felt it before.

 _"_ _You're nothing but his toy, Valerie."_

"Shut up," I muttered. "You're dead. You can't affect me like this."

"Who's dead?"

With a startled gasp, I scrabbled to my feet, raising fists protectively, ready to flee on instinct. Light raised an eyebrow. Swallowing, I shifted out of the stance. He caught my wrists before I could hide them behind me. Blood had run into the creases on the inside of my knuckles and palms, drying and cracking and flaking and appearing a lot more brutal than it felt.

Light's expression darkened, eyes shadowed by his hair. "Why?" When I didn't reply he grabbed my shoulders and jerked me forwards. " _Why_?"

"Scared of what you don't understand?" I whispered.

"You can't deflect this, Minerva. Tell me why. I will stop it."

I let out a barking laugh, bitter and hopeless. "You? What could you possibly do? The only trauma you've known is something you don't even care about."

" _Minerva_."

I wrenched away. What was it about this boy that made me give in to emotion so quickly? "This is madness, Light. This is what you're going to become. Didn't I say you'd be alone someday? Haven't you already noticed the way the student body is avoiding you?"

"Why bring that up?" He walked closer. I spun around and went over to the Escher still-life, tracing the air in front of the knife block.

"Because there's being alone physically, and then there's being alone in your own mind. You can't understand, Light. You're always in control."

"Minerva, you aren't alone," he said, his tone a parody of light-hearted. "You have Quinn, Sayu and I. We're here for you."

I scoffed. "Don't bother. You can't change anything." Like some horrible compulsion, I started to tug at my shirt again. The gnawing was growing stronger, to the point where it almost hurt, and suddenly I couldn't stay any longer. However, as I moved to leave he was there, hands cupping my face.

"We _are_ here for you." For once in his life he actually sounded sincere.

Without warning, I was crying. Massive, aching sobs that wracked my frame and had me falling into his chest. His arms came around my waist, tugging me closer as I clutched at him. My knees gave way. He knelt and shifted so I was sitting in his lap. He rubbed what should have been soothing circles on my back. Instead, they caused the riot of emotions writhing in my chest to grow to be smothering as his fingers traced over the BB scar.

"I hate this," I whimpered, resenting myself with every word I spoke even as they poured out. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Why won't it stop? Why won't it leave me alone? Why is always _me_?"

"You aren't alone," he repeated softly.

"I am. I am, I am, I am, I am." The tears came thick and hot, only adding to my self-hatred. "It just won't _stop. Lord,_ why does it have to be _me_? _It's so unfair_! It's never Quinn or Mello or Near, it's always _me_. And they just _stare_ and _talk_ and I feel so worthless and _why_?"

Light moved back sharply, holding my chin in his hands, his brown eyes scalding with anger. "You aren't worthless." He seemed more affronted by the notion than anything else.

I stared at him, trying to find some hint of understanding. There was nothing but a mask, the one he created when he was losing control. "What's the point of me?" I asked. "Why am I here?"

"Because you have to be," he said, his thumbs stroking away the tears on my eyelashes. "You're needed here." There was nothing soft about that statement. It was cold, hard fact that was impossible to refute. It was better than any inane platitude about love or everything happening for a reason. He always knew just what to say, didn't he?

Taking in a shuddering breath, I nodded, not quite ready to leave his embrace yet. It was late, though, and our siblings would be waiting for us.

"Let's go home," I said.

He studied me one last time. "We'll talk more there."

Too tired of resisting anymore, I acquiesced.

* * *

"I love you more than anyone else in the world! I'm always watching you, I just want to protect you!"

I stopped walking, forcing Light to halt. That voice had sounded frantic, crazed, disturbed. It was coming from a street just ahead. The night was quiet, with not a soul in sight, and that made the words all the more worrying. Coupled with the hiccuping giggles, it set every nerve in my body on edge. A softer, higher voice drifted along in the wind, too quiet to form discernible words from this distance. Someone laughed insanely.

My stomach clenched. Without thinking, I started to run, ignoring Light's shouts as I let my bag fall to the pavement and sprinted around the corner.

"Then . . . if I can't have you . . . I'LL KILL US BOTH!"

There was the glint of a blade in the moonlight, a flash of red material and then I was pushing the girl of the way, sending her tumbling to the ground as I took a blow to my forearm, the blade splitting skin like paper. The attacker was a man, wearing glasses that reflected the light of the streetlamps as he screamed in frustration and dove around me, aiming for the girl. Acting on some self-sacrificing instinct, I leapt into the path of his weapon and felt it slice straight through my shirt and into my spine. The pain was immense. He struck a second time, a third. It was like being flayed with knife. _Again._

The girl cried out in alarm, dark brown eyes watching me in horror from the shadows of her red, wide-brimmed hat. I gave her a shaky grin and kicked back, managing to catch the man in the stomach. He coughed, stumbled, lunged. Another slice. Through blind luck I managed to get a hold of his wrist with my good arm – the left one – and twist his arm so savagely he had no choice but to let go of the knife or break his hand. The sound of it clattering on the ground was masked by his abrupt scream. He went stiff, his eyes rolling back, lips twitching as tormented cries were ripped from his throat. In my grasp I felt his pulse fluctuate wildly.

He collapsed. In the few seconds I kept a hold on him his heartbeat disappeared. When I let go in shock his hand hit the concrete with a dull crack.

"Is he . . . is he dead?" asked the girl.

"I – yes. He is."

"Minerva!" Light was there, my bag on his shoulder, hands roving all over me, making me hiss when they brushed my back, my arm. "What have you done?" he snarled.

"What have _you_ done?"

"What do you mean?"

"That guy dropped dead from a heart attack. Sound familiar?"

"Minerva, you're losing blood."

"Really? I didn't notice. The dead guy's kind of distracting."

"Miss? Are you okay?" the girl asked, sounding nervous.

"Never better," I responded flippantly. The world was starting to spin. That hadn't happened in a while.

"We need to get you to hospital. Do you have a phone?"

"Oh, of course!"

"Hey, Light, the streetlamp's getting dimmer." In fact, the whole world was getting darker. Only Light's eyes stayed bright, tinged with red and fear.

"Minerva, _hold on_. Call an ambulance, quickly."

"You know, this is nice. I feel like I could sleep without nightmares now."

His eyes widened. "No, stay _awake._ "

"Don't be so worried, I don't have a concussion. Geez, and you call yourself a genius." My words were slurring together as I swayed on my feet, feeling calm and weirdly elevated. "Don't freak out about the scars."

" _Minerva!_ "

* * *

TOWRTA: So I promised you guys another chapter and here it is. I've drunk way to much coffee, it's 1:46 pm, I have to awake by 6:30 pm and I'm a senior school student studying for exams. I hope you're all proud of yourselves.

Alex (anon): Dude, those scars are horrifying! If anyone wants to check it out, Alex here compared V's scars to those of Helena on Orphan Black. *shudder* With the whole L thing, I totally agree. Imagine realising that you managed to get one of the few people you are close to mentally and physically scarred because you weren't paying attention to a guy who was obviously disturbed. That would be a horrible revelation. Poor L. He's so tortured. And yeah, let's hope he doesn't take the Whammy Kids' loyalty for granted because imagine if he did something to really annoy Mello one day. Thanks for the review!

Look! Misa's here! Woo! Told you she would be.

Next time: introductions


	14. Kiss

Chapter 13

My back hurt. Really, really hurt. And worse than that it was a familiar pain, which was quickly dragging back bad memories I'd been avoiding for the past month that I didn't have the mental strength to fight off at the moment. I needed a distraction.

"Catearro-sama?"

 _What in the world?_

I opened my eyes and squinted in the harsh glare of fluorescent hospital lights, hissing through my teeth. What was I doing here?

"Catearro-sama, are you okay?"

There was that voice again. Why were they calling me _sama_?

Long blonde hair moved into view, blocking out the bright lighting and letting my eyes adjust. Brown eyes, pink lips, eyelashes so long it seemed they might fall off, and tiny skulls adorning the hair ties. Who the heck was this?

"Catearro-sama? Can you hear me? Hellooo." She waved her hand in front of my nose, as though that would bring me back to responsiveness when the feeling of her bottle-blonde locks trailing along my throat hadn't. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Yes," I croaked, and immediately regretted it. The word scratched up my throat like a razor. I coughed. Blood pooled in my mouth.

"Oh! I'll get you some water! You sound horrible." The girl hurried to the bedside table in my periphery. Her bright red hat sat on the white surface, the single piece of inanimate colour in the otherwise bland room that's walls and ceiling and floor had soaked up so much pain and sickness over the years there was no hint of joy. Lying in this bed, it felt as though all the strength was being sapped from my bones, sucked into the crisp sheets and disinfected linoleum to be transported somewhere else – the waiting room, perhaps – for use in keeping the charade of a building of healing.

 _If only,_ I thought. _Then I wouldn't be stuck in this accursed bed with a knife stabbing into my back._

"Here you go!" A plastic cup of water was held over my chest. For a moment I wondered if she expected me to absorb the liquid through some sort of non-contact osmosis.

After a second of awkward silence, she noticed her mistake. With an unembarrassed smile, she pressed a button on the side of the bed. The top half of the mattress rose, pushing me with it, until I was sitting upright.

She grinned and held the water to my lips.

I tried to ignore the way my pain had just increased a thousand-fold.

"Who are you?" I asked once the cup was emptied. She replaced the cup on the table and sat by my hip, hands clasped in front of her chest, a small blush rising on her cheeks.

"I'm Misa Misa," she said. "You saved me yesterday."

"Yesterday . . . it's Friday already?" That meant Miss Hisashi would be doing the gallery by herself. Not a good impression to make on Principal Kurosaki. Maybe he'd be impressed by my selfless actions and give me the job anyway. Doubtful, but what was hope for?

Misa nodded. "It's after four. Light-san said he'd be here soon if you weren't released and the doctors say that you have to stay here for a few more days at least. So I'm here to keep you company!" Whoa. Her voice was even more girlish than Mikoto's, and that was saying something.

"More water, please."

She obliged, eagerly helping me drink. I tried to take her enthusiasm in stride. In my opinion I managed well enough, considering she was a complete stranger and the first person I'd ever put myself in harm's way to save, other than Quinn, of course. Not something I was familiar with. This had to be rectified.

"So, what do you do?" I asked, leaning back on the pillows. Her smile grew even brighter than Sayu's did when she watched Hideki Ryuga on television.

"I'm a model! Did you see the recent issue of _Eighteen_?"

"That's the quarterly modelling magazine isn't it?"

"Uh huh."

"I think I did." Something like it had been lying around Sayu's room for the past few weeks. "You were in it?"

"I had a two-page picture and now I've been signed on to work full time for the magazine."

"You must be popular, then."

"One of the nurses asked me for my signature."

"Good job."

"Thanks!" She leaned forwards, grasping my hands in hers, reminding me of the large gash in my right forearm when it decided it didn't enjoy being jerked so. "I wanted to say thank you for saving me. No one's ever saved me before and you were so _heroic_!"

I chuckled weakly, gently trying to wriggle out of her grip. It was proving difficult. "Well, I couldn't let him hurt you."

Misa's eyes grew even wider if possible. She gave a quiet sort of hiccup, turned away, and fiercely rubbed at her eyes. Sighing inwardly, I tentatively rubbed her back, scowling when a fingernail got caught in the lace of her corset. That's when I finally took stock of what she was wearing.

Black corset, thickly-soled platform boots with buckles to the knees and a layered lace skirt that poofed around her, creating a black cloud of fluffy fabric. Silver crosses hung from her neck, her leather wristband and dangled from every free hole in her belt.

As I was adjusting to this sudden influx of goth, Misa started to mumble.

"Pardon?"

Sniffing, turned back around, pressing fingers in her eye sockets. Disturbed by the sight of her grinding her eyeballs with her knuckles, I grabbed her hands and flattened them on my lap. Her gaze was drawn to the sight, seemingly entrance by the way her fingers easily intertwined with mine, my short, uncoloured nails so different to her dark purple manicure.

"Are you okay?" I asked when I was certain she wouldn't burst into tears. With a deep breath, she nodded.

"Sorry." She hiccupped again. "No one has ever defended me before."

Taken aback, I searched the far reaches of my mind to find something to say. All that came to mind was, "Then I'll defend you." _What on earth prompted that?_

With shining eyes, Misa gave a small, brilliant smile, and drew her hands away. "You don't have to worry about the hospital bill. I've talked to my agent about paying it."

"You don't have to –"

"–I have to thank you somehow!"

"Well . . . thank you, then."

"You're welcome."

There was a knock at the door. Light's could be seen through the inset muntin glass. Misa went to open it and I stretched, rolling my shoulders and hiding a grimace. It wouldn't do to let Light see me in pain, but _man_ , did it hurt.

"How are you feeling?" Light asked without preamble, taking Misa's place and grasping my hands. He was still in school uniform, but without his usual bag filled with school books and maybe the Death Note. I should ask whether he set up the burning desk draw at home, because _that_ was not part of the agreement of him staying with Quinn and I.

"Like I've been slashed with a knife," I replied. "How was school?"

"Nakamura, Fuyura, Tanji and Itoh were asking about you. They wanted to know what prompted you to leap in front of a man with a _knife._ " He stared at me pointedly.

"Fuyura and Tanji . . . oh, Nozomi and Mikoto."

"Yes."

"What did you talk about last night with them? They've been worrying about you for months now."

"Nothing of consequence. Now s _top changing the subject._ "

I half-smiled. "But that's what I'm good at."

"Minerva."

"Where're Quinn and Sayu?"

"Getting food from the cafeteria." One of his eyebrows were twitching. Just at that moment Misa decided to interrupt and I felt a rush of gladness for the girl.

She said, "Do you want me to bring you home when you've been released, Catearro-sama?" Her nervous glances between Light and I made me smile more widely.

"That would be great, thanks. And it's just Minerva."

"Should I see when you can go home?"

"If you would."

She smiled back, nodded to Light, and left the room. The door closed. Light and I were alone.

Damn.

He set his gaze on me, and for a moment I thought I'd get off the hook, as his eyes softened and his hold on my hands became gentler.

Then he grabbed my chin and said roughly, "What the _hell_ were those scars from?"

I cringed, trying to pull myself away to no avail. "Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?" I ventured.

"An accident will happen now if you lie to me."

Okay. Touchy much. Was it romantic or creepy for him to be so worked up over this? By the way his eyes were blazing with anger right now, it was leaning towards the more 'unhealthily possessive.'

"I'll tell you if you let go of me, sit on that chair, and let me breathe for a moment." He didn't budge. "Otherwise all you're getting is me screaming for a nurse." It appeared as though he might snap from annoyance, but he did as I asked, moving off the bed and releasing his hold on my hands. I rolled my wrists and twisted my fingers together. I ached for a sketchbook.

"What happened?" asked Light. Taking a breath, I stared down at my hands, refusing to meet his gaze. To look in his eyes would be to lose any command over my memories I had left. Last night had proved that him just being there could reduce me to self-pitying weeping.

Swallowing around a dry throat, I said, "I will tell you what I can. All I ask is that you don't expect me to answer all your questions. I can't." He nodded, though the irritation was obvious behind his eyes.

 _Deep breaths. In and out. It doesn't matter that not even Quinn knows the full story. Imagine you're talking to Granny Hiro at her grave. Even though you've only been there once._

The internal pep talk wasn't helping at all, so I stopped, squared my shoulders, and said, "Quinn and I knew BB before Canada."

"I already figured that out," Light said absently. A glare made him shut up.

"This is my story. Let me tell it and you can comment after." He nodded and I continued. "I can't tell you where the place was, or what it was other than an orphanage. Quinn and I arrived in 1995, April tenth. Quinn was four, I was nine. We were . . . taken there by a man who had seen us at our previous orphanage. There'd been a . . . problem, and we were forced to move. At the new orphanage we met BB."

"And L," Light put in. I glanced at him sharply. He was frowning, staring not at me, but through me.

I went on as though he hadn't interrupted. "We lived there for six years. Learning, trying not to be seen. Neither of us wanted to leave – after the previous orphanage, this was like a dream. No overbearing nurses or kids terrified of us. It was the safest we'd ever felt. Then, of course, everything went wrong.

"It was a Saturday. Saturday the fourteenth in July. I was fifteen. No one told me Beyond's age, but I guess he must have been around twenty-two. Same age as L." Light's fingers clenched. He said nothing. Sighing, I said, "You've already guessed L was there, so I might as well tell you the whole thing. BB was obsessed with L. He became my friend only because L talked to me. _Hah._ As if L actually cared about me. I was just a toy." Lights fingers curled over the covers, finding my knee and staying there; a wordless support that I sorely needed because the word 'toy' had made my pulse jolt.

"Anyway," I went on, swallowing again. "On that Saturday he asked to talk to me. Turns out he didn't really want to talk." A sob choked me, and I curled inwards, scrabbling for Light's hand and holding on as tightly as I could. "He heated the knife on a bunsen burner." My voice was shaking. "I tried to escape a few times. He almost gouged my left eye out with his fingers."

"Where was this?" Light asked sharply, both his hands entangled with mine. "Where was L?"

That made me laugh. A weak chuckle that sounded as poisonous as it felt. "We were in BB's bedroom. L didn't stay in the orphanage dormitories so he wouldn't have heard. No one would have. Orphanage policy to soundproof rooms to ensure peace of mind."

There was a moment of silence as the influx of information sunk in, both for me and for Light. Then he asked the question I'd rather hoped to avoid.

"Did he rape you?" he asked, voice void of all emotion. I wondered if there was a way to ask that question and have it not hurt. Would those words screamed in rage sound better? Or perhaps said gently, with Granny Hiro's arms around my shoulders? It didn't matter, truthfully. Not matter what form, it was still painful.

"No."

"No?"

I sighed, hunching over further. "I was scared," I whispered. "There's a lot you can do with a knife when you're scared."

Silence filled the stale, whitewashed hospital room. A heavy silence that weighed the senses, pushed down on shoulders and demanded to not be ignored. It muffled the world outside, quietened our breaths. Soon all I could hear was the throbbing of my heartbeat in my ears. Light's hands remained my anchor as I struggled with oncoming panic and old shame. This recent rollercoaster of emotions was getting tiresome.

Finally, it was Light that spoke, softly, slowly. "What happened in the end?"

 _Breathe. In and out. The hardest part is over._ "He ended up running. BB was a coward in truth. He could give pain, but he hated it himself. Quinn found me collapsed in the bedroom." And I still couldn't forgive myself for not having the strength to make back to my room to get patched up before he came. Q was not even nine. Much too young to see so much blood and not come out unscathed.

"Two days later we ran for it. BB had disappeared and somehow we managed to smuggle ourselves to Canada on a cargo ship. From there we hitchhiked across the country until stopping in Thunder Bay. I don't know if we would have been able to go much further if Granny Hiro hadn't been there."

"You travelled illegally when your wounds had not healed?" Light asked incredulously.

"Hey, leave the 'illegally' out of this. You're a hypocrite if you're complaining about that," I shot back.

"Didn't you even _consider_ the possibility of an infection?"

"What would've you had me do? Stay in that house where I'd been attacked, where Quinn was bullied every day, where I was constantly being watched? It was better than the orphanage, yes, but only because I wasn't strapped to a bed half the time." I cut Light off before he could speak. "Don't ask. If things keep going the way they are, you'll find out soon enough." I glanced up and smiled wanly. "Didn't I tell this is what madness looks like?"

"You aren't mad."

"Yes, I am. It's only a matter of time until you see it."

"What can I do?"

I looked at him sharply. He was leaning forwards, jaw set, and for all intents and purposes, completely earnest. I immediately questioned it.

"Why do you care?"

He frowned, sitting up. "Why wouldn't I care? You have Quinn to look after, Sayu cares for you, and I consider you a . . . friend." He tasted the last word, and appeared to find it satisfactory, if not perfect.

"I'm not your queen anymore?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Kind of a let down to be demoted to 'friend.'"

"Do you want to be my queen?" It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Well . . ." I looked at the ceiling, creating the façade of considering it. "I don't know how good of a queen I'll be, so friend is good for now."

"For now," he repeated.

I nodded. "For now. We'll see what happens in the future." A pleased smile lit up Light's face. "Uh, uh. Remember this is mostly because I can't have Quinn dealing with me spiralling, and there's no way I bringing Sayu or L into this. You'll have to do. So you better not disappoint me."

Light laughed. Actually laughed. "When have I ever disappointed anyone?" he asked. I took it as rhetoric and deigned not to answer.

The door slammed open at that moment and Quinn stormed in, Sayu on his heels. A flicker of frustration warped Light's face but he schooled it, turned and said, "Did you guys get the snacks?"

"Yup," said Sayu, holding up a coffee and taking a bag of chips from her school bag. "We talked to the nurses at the station and they said this should be fine for you to have. I think Amane-san talked to them."

I sat up a little straighter. "You met Misa?"

"Yeah. She was torn up over what you did." Sayu sat on the end of the bed, passed me the coffee, and opened the chip packet. Ever since her parents' death she been more subdued, having grown up in much too short a time. Now she reminded me more of Quinn – contemplative, prone to staring into the middle distance, less excitable. Rarely did she show the Sayu she used to be. It was one of the more painful aftereffects of Soichiro and Sachiko's passing.

Quinn stayed standing, his and Light's bags at his feet. His arms were folded and there was a glare marring his normally placid face. It was disturbing.

"Q? What's wrong?"

His scowl deepened.

"I hate being your brother sometimes."

It was like a physical blow across my chest. I shrunk back as a wave of guilt, of pain, of shame, washed over me. I knew exactly why he was saying this. A talk we'd had when I had returned from the hospital after the biker gang incident surfaced in my mind. He'd made me promise to avoid potentially lethal situations. If I died, he would have no one.

"Quinn!" Sayu exclaimed, showing the first sign of emotion greater than one level above apathy for the first time in weeks. "Why would you say that?" Light said nothing. He gazed at Quinn shrewdly, seeing something that I couldn't.

"I'm sorry." I pulled free of Light and held my hands out to him. He came around to the other side of the bed and took one. His grip was a shade from painful. Now I saw the dark circles under his eyes. He must not have slept last night. For that matter, Sayu and Light had the same careworn appearance. "I don't mean for these things happen."

"Really?" he said cuttingly. "The quad bike, the bear, the bikers and now this? "

"The bear was not my fault!" I protested. "And I rolled off the quad bike before it tipped fully."

"You followed the bear."

"Because Marnie told me to."

"You should have known better."

"You would have done the same thing."

"You were sixteen. I was twelve."

"Semantics."

" _V_."

"Why is everyone saying my name like that lately?" I asked in exasperation, my attention falling on Sayu. She cracked a small grin.

"Because you do things like follow bears and throw yourself in front of strangers. Did you get attacked by the bear? Was this in Canada?"

"I –"

"It almost tore her in half," Quinn cut in. Sayu gasped and stared at my stomach as though expected to see blood. Rolling my eyes, I took my hand from Quinn and gingerly pulled up the hospital gown, making sure my bandaged arm didn't brush anything and my legs stayed covered underneath the sheets. Across my abdomen was an angry red scar that's wound had almost sterilised me.

"Whoa," Sayu whispered. She moved forward as if to touch it but was intercepted by Light, who traced the scar gently with one finger, closed his eyes, and sighed. When he looked at me again there was a mix of annoyance, anger, concern and, dare I say it, fondness among a dozen other impressions.

"Only you," he said quietly.

I, quite despite myself, grinned.

* * *

That feeling of goodwill wasn't to last, however. Misa visited again, telling us I was free to go tomorrow afternoon, and then each of them had to leave as visiting hours ended. Quinn promised to be there as soon as possible in the morning; Misa requested again that she be the one to take me home and gave me a kiss on the cheek that might or might not have made Light clench his fists; Sayu hugged me as tightly as she could without causing me pain, saying she couldn't cope in a house of only boys for another day without me; Light lingered by my bedside, apparently dithering, then as quick as a flash planted a kiss on my temple. He left without saying a word and I stared after him, wondering what new game was beginning. It didn't feel like a manipulation though. The faux-relationship had ended. In that kiss I sensed only . . . affection. Was that the right word? It was the closest I could find. There was an undercurrent of desperation too.

When my family and Misa had left I attempted to sleep. I drifted off for a while, kept on the edge of true sleep by the aching of my back that I refused to anaesthetise entirely. So the nurses kept me just on the threshold of discomfort and I drew a feeling of humanity from it. It was so much nicer than the numbness I'd devoted myself to for the most trying parts of February.

There was a soft thud. Blinking awake, I glanced around and found everything to be the same, right down the to desk lamp on its lowest setting. The room was bathed in the soft yellow glow, casting a warm glow to everything in the white room. Except the dark notebook on the end of my bed. The words _Death Note_ were written on the front in thick Japanese characters. Convinced this was a dream, I leaned forwards, wincing at the twinge in my spine and right forearm, and picked up the notebook. It was of the same material as Light's, but on the inside cover there were no rules written, nor anything in the pages. If I didn't speak Japanese and hadn't met Light Yagami, I might have thought there was nothing out of the ordinary.

However, the ordinary, I was soon to find, was a long way away.

Flicking through the pages, a piece of paper fluttered out. Without thought I plucked it from the sheets and glanced at each side, wondering if it contained a hidden message. As I held it up against the glow of the lamp, I caught sight of a shadow in the corner of the room.

A tall, white shadow, with thick, purple-tinged hair, a body made of vertebrae and pale muscle and two stick-like wings sticking from its back.

"I am Rem," it said.

I screamed.

* * *

TOWRTA: I'm back? (And she breaks into a parody of 'Bad' by Michael Jackson - blame my HSM marathon as celebration for finishing high school.) Sorry this took so long. You can thank az23bv for this as she sent me a PM complaining about my radio silence. I've been getting sorted for university and hostel life next year so . . . (exams are over! Woo!)

Alex (anon): Ahahaha! I shall convert you to the cult of Light Yagami! It is an enjoyable, if sometimes questionable, club. I'm going to have so much fun with this group of . . . what is it, eight now? With the Yagamis, Catearros, Misa, the Shinigami and L and Watari, you're absolutely right; Minerva doesn't have much wiggle room at all, does she? She's in a downward spiral that I don't think Light, with all his 'support', can fix. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and you'll be seeing a lot more Misa and Rem and Ryuk in the future!

So guys, tell me how it is (oh, and does anyone want to beta for this lazy editor? You have to be good with grammar, not imposing on my story, and being willing to put up with my weirdo schedule. It'd be awesome to have a helper!).

Thoughts for next time?

Next chapter: rem.


	15. Notebook

Chapter 14

I scrambled back, pressing myself into the wall and unconsciously hugging the notebook to my chest. The creature didn't move – a Shinigami, I realised, because what else could it be? – and as I caught up with the fact that a Death Note was clutched in my hands, the door slammed open and a harrassed nurse burst in, pinning me to the bed with her gaze.

"You screamed? Is something wrong?"

"No!" I exclaimed, sitting up and trying to appear at ease. "Sorry, it was a nightmare."

"Oh." The woman relaxed and sighed, pinching her nose. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, closing her eyes for a few seconds in an effort to regain her composure.

"Don't worry, I've had it before."

She stared at me once more, her gaze shrewd. "Recurring nightmares shouldn't be brushed off, Catearro-san. They can spawn from serious issues that need to be addressed."

 _And I have no doubt that any of my nightmares are indeed that, but right now I need you to leave._ "It was nothing, really. I can't even remember it fully."

The nurse's eyes were uncomfortably piercing, and I wondered for a moment if she would take notice of the notebook and remove it from my grasp. In the end she nodded once, gave the room one last searching look, then left, closing the door quietly behind her. As soon as it shut I slipped the notebook underneath my pillow and hissed, "What are you doing here?"

"You are the female who has befriended Ryuk's human."

A sort of frantic humour swept over me and a semi-hysterical giggle escaped my lips. "Ryuk's human. Say that to Light's face and see how he'll take."

"I am not here to talk to Light Yagami. I'm here to speak to you."

"Oh, of course. You're here to talk to Ryuk's human's female friend. What's the occasion?" _Get a grip, V. You've lost it enough recently. Get your act together._

If Rem was phased by my frank manner it – she? – didn't show it. "I watched you attempt to save the life of Misa Amane."

"You saw that?"

"Yes."

"Why were you watching?"

"A Shinigami named Gelus was in love with Misa Amane. I was with him when he watched he get attacked by the man in the alleyway."

I thought back to the night and the strange way the man had died. He had keeled over suddenly, and I'd automatically assumed it was Light. Now I wondered if it hadn't been some sort of not-quite-divine intervention of occult imaginings.

"You said 'was in love'. Does that mean Gelus is dead?" I glanced at her waist and saw an unmarked Death Note in a white, unadorned holder. "You gave me his Death Note, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Rem took her time answering, staring at me fixedly without blinking. It was somehow creepier than when Ryuk stared at me. I'd grown used to the black pools of the punk-rocker Shinigami. It would take time to this slit-pupiled, yellow-eyed creature that showed only one eye. The other was under what seemed to be an arbitrary bandage that acted as a headband.

"Gelus saved Misa Amane out of love. He died because he interfered," she said in her low, slow voice. "I thought to give the Death Note to Misa but . . ." There was a moment of silence. She tilted her head, as though in contemplation of her own actions. "I have been watching you, Minerva Catearro. You have been through many trials. I believed this Death Note would help you more than it would help her."

I opened my mouth. Then closed it, sat unspeaking for a number of seconds, and finally said, "What would happen if I burned the Death Note?"

Rem frowned, the action making the bandage wrinkle and her tube-like hair shadow her face further. "Anyone who had touched the Death Note would lose all memory of it. Do you not want it?"

"Well . . ." I pulled the notebook out from under the pillow and flicked through the pages once more. "What if I gave it back? Would I lose memory of this meeting then?" Something told me that forgetting Rem existed, when there was the strong possibility of her giving the notebook to Misa as soon as I relinquished it, was not a good idea.

"If you do not write any names in the notebook you will not lose your memory if you pass on ownership. You will no longer be able to see me, however."

"Damn. So I either have to burn it or keep it."

"I don't understand."

I sighed, leaning back on my pillows and wincing at the pressure on my bandaged back. This was not how I imagined my Friday night to go. Frustrated by the fact that I could barely see, I tapped the lamp until it was on full brightness and stared at the cracked ceiling. It was in dire need of a new plastering job. There was so much this hospital tried to hide on the outside, with its cheerful waiting room and polished floors and well-maintained rooms that as long as no one looked too closely at the finer details the board could get away with cutting corners. Exhibit A) the fact that as soon as someone looked up they would begin to fear for their safety in an earthquake.

 _Sort of like me. Start peering into my history and most people would run for the hills._

 _Excellent. Now I'm psychoanalysing myself based on the state of a hospital room's ceiling._

"How do you know about me?" I wondered aloud, searching for something to alleviate the silence while I worked on the conundrum I had been inadvertently thrown into.

Rem took a step forward but stopped at my outstretched hand. Where she was standing was quite close enough. "Many of the Shinigami have been watching Ryuk and Light Yagami in recent months."

"Oh?"

"It is something of an . . . entertainment for us now."

"Well, that's comforting at least. Someone finds all this entertaining." A choked laugh escaped me. "Oh, Lord. I can't believe I feel like crying again."

"Minerva?" asked Rem, moving closer. I didn't have the strength to stop her as a rattling sob in my chest caused my injuries to flare up and it was all I could do to stay still.

At that moment, a welcome distraction phased through the western wall, saying, "Hey, Minerva. Light sent me to see how you're – Oh. Rem."

"Hello, Ryuk."

"Hey. What're you doing here?"

"I have given Gelus' Death Note to Minerva."

"Really?" Ryuk grinned at me, his massive eyes wide and filled with intrigued glee, like a bug collector having found a new and rather comical specimen. "This is going to be interesting."

I coughed once and slowly sat up, holding Gelus' Death Note in my lap. "Can we stop discussing the entertainment factor of my life and get to the point where I figure out what to do with it?" Ryuk cackled and glided over.

"You gonna tell Light?" he asked.

"Insanity must be catching if you think I'd tell him," I snapped. "He'd use me in a heartbeat."

"Aww, come on. It'll be fun."

I shot him a look that, miraculously, shut him up. "Rem," I said, turning to the other Shinigami. She nodded once, her expression as enquiring as it could be. "Is there some way to destroy a Death Note but retain the memories of it?" An idea was forming in the back of my mind, but I wasn't willing to give it any hope yet.

"No," she said. "The destruction of a Death Note relinquishes ownership of the notebook. Any human owner will forget his or her memories of it."

"So there's no way around it at all? You said that a person who does not write in the note will keep their memories. Anything else?" The two Shinigami exchanged glances. "Please!" I begged.

Ryuk's expression was at that stage between confusion and enlightenment, on the cusp of understanding. A beat passed. Another. Rem was unmoving. I kept my gaze on Ryuk, willing him to figure it out without my intervention. It was hard enough trying to justify what I wanted in my mind. I didn't want to admit the hope in my heart aloud too.

Eventually Ryuk caught on. He clicked his fingers, saying, "You want to destroy Light's Death Note without him forgetting." I nodded, not willing to speak. He wasn't so lenient as to let me get away without an explanation though. "Why?"

Swallowing, I pressed my lips into a line and willed myself to say the words that might condemn me to the grey fuzz in the scale of morality.

"I want Light to stop killing people but I don't want him to forget. He doesn't . . . deserve that." It hurt to say that. It was as though I was condemning him with my words, finally labelling him 'irredeemable.' It wasn't true, but my heart twinged with the guilt of deciding that Light had to suffer for what he'd done. It felt unfair to brand him in such a way, no matter how justifiable. Especially after our conversation that afternoon.

Ryuk nodded, understanding where I was coming from after listening to my angry rants on Light I'd had in his company when the pressure got too much. Rem still said nothing.

"The Death Note needs to be destroyed," I continued. "But without him forgetting anything. Is that possible?"

Rem spoke up this time. "Someone in possession of multiple Death Notes won't forget if they keep ownership of one while abandoning another."

"So I'd have to give him this one if I was to destroy the one Ryuk gave him?"

"Yes."

I glanced down at the Death Note, at its blank pages, thinking of all the damage that could be done with a simple pen and ambition. Shadows danced beside it, hiding in the crevices of the bedsheets, huddling close to the edge of the notebook. They avoided the light in a way that I wanted to avoid the actual Light.

"But I can't give him this one," I said.

"Then he will lose his memories," said Rem.

"And everything that brought you together," said Ryuk, showing uncommon shrewdness.

Not giving in to my tears, I leaned forwards and pressed my forehead on the strange surface of the notebook, wondering when my life had become such a mess.

* * *

It has been said home is where the heart it. Sometimes I think I lost my heart back in Canada, when Granny Hiro breathed her last and the hostile gazes of her family forced Quinn and I to Japan. It's not at Whammy's, or the orphanage's. Those places were far from what I would consider home. It could be that a piece of my heart was left with my parents as they died. That's not something I enjoy contemplating.

However, I do know one thing. Home was not the apartment on that main street in Tokyo, as I sat surrounded on all sides by people who each cared for me on some level and were making conversation on things I could care less about. Light was not home. Misa definitely wasn't home. Sayu, though she'd wriggled a way into my heart and carved herself a den, was not home either.

No, home at that moment was in his room, sitting on his bed plucking at the strings of his guitar. Excusing myself, earning concerned looks from all three around the dining table, I went to Quinn's room, sat next to him, and rested my head on his shoulder. He said nothing, continuing to pick out a tune.

"Leave it simple," I murmured, turning my head to bury my face in the fabric of his t-shirt. "Keep it on guitar only."

"Okay," he said. Time passed inconsequentially on the Sunday afternoon. Misa and Sayu discussed Misa's latest modelling career. Light would occasionally add his two cents. Ryuk hovered in the background, next to Rem who could not be seen by anyone but me. Gelus' Death Note was tucked away among my art supplies, deep in the mess of my bedroom where it would not be found.

"Mi-chan!" Sayu burst into the room, not looking at all abashed for interrupting Quinn and I. "What are we having for dinner? Misa-san wants to stay too."

Sighing in amusement, I stood up, ruffling Quinn's hair as I did so. He was filling out, growing into the man he would become. If he kept growing at the same rate he'd be taller than Light in no time.

"You need a haircut, Q," I said as I left the room. He didn't so much as move his head, making a noncommittal sound without pausing his playing.

When I entered the living room I froze. Misa and Light had gravitated to the couch, and Light's left arm was on the backrest, inches from Misa's shoulders. Light's mouth was curved into the gentle, interested smile that he used on most of the girls at school, one that said, 'yes, I'm listening. Tell me everything.' He hadn't used it on me since I found out about Ryuk. From Misa's expression, it was working a treat on her.

"They've been like that for at least ten minutes," Sayu whispered to me, her features a mask of anxiety. "What's he doing?" Misa was describing her first modelling job, dropping names and companies in every third sentence. Light nodded at the right moments, commenting when necessary and otherwise playing the part of an interested man who's willing to buy a pretty girl a drink perfectly.

"Don't know. But I can bet we'll find out soon," I hissed back. In a louder voice I asked, "So, what do you want for dinner?"

Light and Misa sprang apart, a light blush on Misa's cheeks. "Minerva-sama!" She jumped off the couch and bounded up to us, clasping her hands together. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I needed some space, that's all." Over her shoulder Light was showing a remarkable amount of annoyance that was barely covered by concern. "And please, just Minerva."

"Mi-chan then!" Well. Give the girl an inch and she'll take the mile. It would have been rude to dissuade her, even though Sayu was looking positively murderous that this almost-stranger had stolen her coveted pet name for me, so I smiled and invited her to help with the cooking. She leapt at the opportunity and scampered into the kitchen.

"So, Misa-san. How old are you?" I asked as I got out the ingredients for lasagne.

"Misa's nineteen." She took the vegetables from me and set to work trying to find a knife and chopping board.

"Sayu, can you help her?" I said absently, turning on the oven and defrosting mince in the microwave. "You're living alone then?"

"Yup."

"That must be lonely."

She hummed, setting to work on the vegetables. Without asking Sayu started on the cheese sauce. I could feel Light's eyes on me, burning into the back of my skull. I debated sending him away but that would only make him interrogate Quinn for whatever plan he had boiling in the back of his mind. Better grin and bear the silent irritation where I could see him.

Conversation passed in the same vein for a while, discussing Misa's time in Tokyo, what she'd seen and what she hoped to do. Somehow she managed to wrangle a promise for me to take her on a tour, just the two of us, in a week. Sayu joined in too when I'd dragged her into the conversation enough times for her to get sick of being asked questions. It was surprisingly companionable. Nothing to do with Kira or Ryuk or Rem. Us three in a kitchen cooking a meal like friends might do on a sleepover. If it wasn't for the gazes of Light and two Shinigami on my back I might have deluded myself into thinking that we were normal.

It was when I picked up the heavy glass baking dish that was brimming with the lasagne that things went wrong. My right arm decided it didn't appreciate the strain put on the cound and decided at that moment to seize up and blast an angry red hot spike down into my fingers. I gasped, the baking dish falling onto the countertop with a crash as I slid to the floor. My back smacked against a cupboard handle and yelp tore up my throat. Tears in my eyes, I curled on the floor, hugging my arm gingerly to my chest and trying not to let anything touch my shoulders or spine.

 _Pain, pain, pain. Make it stop. Damn it, this wasn't supposed to happen again._

"Minerva!" A hand took me by the shoulders and tried to roll me over but I growled, lashed out, and curled up tighter.

"V?"

"Quinn," I gasped. Why did this keep happening to me?

"Mi-chan! What should we do?" Misa cried.

"She needs to go to the hospital," said Sayu, who gently took my head and placed it on her lap. Her hands carded through my hair, soothing and cool against my burning scalp. A fever seemed to be running rampant through my veins, causing my fingers to lock and my whole body to tremble.

Quinn's voice sounded close to me. "We can't take her to the hospital."

"Why not?" asked Light.

"She wouldn't want to pay."

"But I can pay!" said Misa.

Quinn took a hold of my hands, uncurling my fingers and interlacing them with his own. Still stuck in a misery of pain and fire, I shuddered, holding on for dear life.

"We don't take charity," said Quinn sharply. Misa gave something between a gasp and a squeak. Quinn ignored her in favour of Light. "Light, help me." With gentle hands, Quinn slowly pulled me up, grasping my forearms. I whimpered and almost collapsed when my forearm screamed internally once more. This had never happened to me before. I'd never felt so much pain. Through the fog of my mind I questioned whether hitting the ground had been the straw to break the camel's back. It was as though all the injuries I'd gained over the years were reopening.

Someone grabbed my left arm, Quinn holding on to my right, and I was half carried, half dragged across the floor. Through bleary eyes I saw my bedroom, the floor covered with crumpled paper and the skirting boards invisible for all the canvases, some finished, others blank.

I was laid down on my side on the bed. Sayu took my pillow's place and continued her ministrations while Light and Quinn argued overhead. Their figures were nothing more than blurs in my vision, one blonde, one bronze, both imposing. They were similar in ways – wirey frames, pale skin, a silent strength that invoked loyalty in those around them. Yet Quinn could be trusted to respect that loyalty while Light would only use it for his gain.

"I need to make a call," said Quinn, and he left the room, taking my phone from the bedside table with him. I had a sneaking suspicion he would be using the unnamed number in my contacts that connected directly to L.

Light sat down on the end of my bed, his hand finding its way onto my ankle. My eyelids felt heavy, and I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and not awake, but something told me that to do so would be a bad idea. So I struggled to stay awake, focusing on Sayu's hands and Light's thumb that was stroking tiny circles on my bare ankle bone.

Misa fluttered by the doorway, her hands clasped together. Feeling almost guilty for making such a scene while she was over, I tried to gesture her closer. My hands ended up flopping uselessly on the bedsheets. Misa got the idea and knelt at my bedside, her hands grasping mine.

"Ryuk, what is happening to her?" asked Rem, who was a large white ghost in the corner of the room.

Her darker shadow didn't chuckle, for once. "No idea," he said. There was no apple in his hand, nor a smile on his face. He was the most serious he'd ever been since coming to Earth.

Light frowned at his Shinigami, obviously wondering why he'd spoken out of turn.

Then Quinn walked in, placed my cell phone on the bedside table, and said in English, "L's coming. You're going to task force headquarters."

From Light's look of complete shock, he'd understood all too well what Quinn had said.

* * *

TOWRTA: Good Merry Christmas Morning! Here is an update for you all to enjoy!

Alex (anon): So Misa's not getting the Death Note now and Light doesn't know about Gelus' DN. This may change, may not, but I'm pretty sure Minerva won't show it to him willingly. We'll have to wait and see on the 'queen' front though. With L coming into the picture things are going to get quite heated. (Thanks for your continual support! It's always awesome to read your theories!)

Guest (anon): AHH, NOW IT'S L TOO! WHAT IS GOING ON!? LKJDGHAS (loved your review by the way ;D )

Guest #2 (anon): Here's your update!

Sorry about that, but I always reply to every review and I have no choice but to reply here for the guest reviewers.

Enjoy your Christmas!

(And thanks to JaegarsWings for checking out the chapter before I posted it.)

Next time: L


	16. Nightmare

Chapter Fifteen

"Interesting," Ryuk hissed.

"L?" said Light quietly. His eyes were heavily lidded, an almost smirk, near impossible to notice, curling about his mouth. In the soft light of my bedroom I could have sworn his irises shone red. "You can contact L?"

Quinn, who didn't appear pleased by having to resort to L for help, nodded curtly and crossed his arms. His eyes were on only me.

"Quinn?" I glanced at Sayu, whose pretty face bore her confusion. "Do you mean L the detective who's after Kira?" My brother nodded again.

 _Kira._ Somehow I had become complacent again, ignoring the fact that Light was a cold-hearted killer with an alter-ego that rivalled BB in insanity. He kept it so well hidden it was almost easy to fool myself into thinking he was nothing but a boy with a questionable toy.

Only a similar toy was sitting just behind the partially painted canvas of Quinn's golden head bent over a guitar, feet from Kira, and if it was found it could tear the world apart.

Light wasn't there anymore. His very countenance had changed and this creature in Light's place was a thing of nightmares. Barely controlled, bloodlust was in its eyes, arrogance in its posture, hunger curling its fingers. My stomach turned.

"Quinn, take Misa and Sayu into the living room," I whispered in a voice I hadn't used since he'd found me in BB's room. Q shot me a that was just on this side of fearful.

"V . . ."

"Now."

He scrutinised me and whatever he found there had him taking Sayu by the hand and Misa above her elbow and dragging them from the room. Sayu gave no argument, used to Quinn and I's silent conversations by now. Misa protested.

"Mi-chan needs us!"

To her I said, "I'll be fine, Misa. I just need to talk to Light alone." With the final word I gestured surreptitiously to the Shinigami. Rem's eyes narrowed, Ryuk scowled and both left the room, Ryuk saying I owed him apples for this and Rem murmuring something about not wishing to leave me with the boy. The door closed.

Light's hand had not left my ankle throughout and his eyes latched possessively on mine. No, not Light. _Kira._

"You have L's phone number," said Kira, its voice barely above a whisper. I wondered at its willingness to reveal itself in front of me.

"Yes," I replied, not seeing a point in lying.

Its eyes grew hungrier. It leant closer, its grip tightening. "You've been seeing him recently."

"Only twice. When –"

"–When I was talking to Misora Naomi and after the fire. Yes, I guessed that." It licked its lips and ran a finger up my calf. I shivered. "I assume he was worried about you then?"

"Why would he be worried about me?"

Its finger drew meaningless patterns, the fingernail scraping lightly. "He suspected me of being Kira," it said simply.

"Not the first time," I countered.

"Then why did he talk to you?"

"He . . . ah. Wanted to discuss a painting."

"A known recluse had his personal assistant pick you up and bring you to his unknown location simply to discuss a painting?" Kira smiled. "Come now, Minerva. You can do better than that."

A glare stole over my features. "Don't say my name, and how did you know Watari picked me up?"

"You would never have gone willingly to L's residence if he'd called and told you his address. That would also be a recipe for disaster should anyone be listening to the conversation. So you must've had no choice but to go and what easier way than have Watari collect you." Suddenly, its hand clamped on the outside of my thigh and it leaned much closer than I was comfortable with. "Wasn't it you who told me to call you Minerva?"

"That was when you _weren't_ a raging psychopath," I spat. "Get out of here, Kira. Give Light his mind back."

"You think I'm an alternate personality?" It cocked its head to the side. "I assure you I am Light."

"No. Light may be intelligent beyond his own control and perhaps he was bored to the point of being willing to write in the Death Note, but _you_ are Kira. You kill without remorse. You were born that day in the alleyway, weren't you? When I caught Light after Takuo's death. That was _you_ I was talking to."

"Minerva." It frowned, all sense of mirth quickly disappearing. "It's me. I'm Light."

"No you're not!" I cried. Without warning, I sprung at it, ignoring the almost paralysing pain from my back and arm. We tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs and I wrestled until I was straddling its waist. Kira looked up at me, partially bewildered but mostly annoyed. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I threaded my fingers through Kira's hair and tugged it closer. This was the creature I hated. It held all of Light's innate sinfulness, all his deathly urges and had been allowed to manifest into something much too powerful. I realised Light was practically a child caught in the grips of a monster they'd created. Kira was an imaginary friend gone rogue to the extreme. A temptation quickly turned lethal. It made me pity Light more than ever.

"You are not Light," I repeated in a hiss. "You are the product of an insane world where honour is defined by getting as far as possible on your own without people knowing what you've done wrong. Everything about you is a lie. It's sick and corrupted and made of personal hatred and _nothing_ about your cause is pure. _Nothing._ " Rage was flooding my veins, poisonous and powerful. It made the pain from my back dwindle into a minor throb. "I am going to _burn_ your Death Note someday, once I've figured out how to make you keep your memories. Then you can feel all the guilt and shame of a thousand lives stolen rest on your shoulders."

Kira blinked, once, twice, twisted its face into a sneer and threw me off. In a second our positions were reversed and I felt as though I might suffocate as all the weight of Light's body pressed into my chest.

"You speak too highly of yourself, Mi-chan." It caressed the nickname, turning it into a thorn in my heart. "You may think you have a hold over me but I will drop you in a _second_. Your life is nothing to me."

"Then how come you didn't kill me when I first learned of your homicidal habit?" I asked.

"Because I thought we could rule together. Now I see that's not possible."

"No, it's not. What a shame."

"Indeed," it murmured, reaching out and trailing a finger down my cheek. Its face softened. If I didn't know any better, I might have said Kira looked regretful.

Then, as the mass murderer started to lean towards me, the bedroom door was flung open, smashing into a large box of paints. Pale, long fingered hands grabbed Kira under the arms and dragged it bodily off me. A head of messy black hair haloed panda eyes and hollowed cheeks. L, my rescuer, was here.

"Let go of me," Kira commanded, sounding imperious and in control despite the fact that L had it in a half-nelson with a white-knuckled grip.

"You will not injure Valerie," said L, whose shoulders were trembling. I did not think it was out of fear.

"I never hurt her," Kira protested, doing a commendable impression of Light at his most shocked. L wrenched its arms back further, causing Kira to shout with pain. Beyond the two stood Quinn, holding back Misa and Sayu. The two girls were edging to race in and break up the fight. Quinn was emotionless.

"Watari!" I shouted. The elderly man appeared at Quinn's side and strode into the room, easily pulling Kira from L's grip. The murderer thrashed for a second then went limp. It caught sight of me, lying on the ground, staring up at it in awestruck horror. The red gleam left its eyes and Light returned, shoulders almost visibly buckling under the weight of what he'd just done. In a second he regained his dignity but the damage was done. He'd lost all control to the monster inside.

"Valerie," said L, coming to stand in front of me and holding out a hand. I reached up and allowed him to tug me to my feet. That's when I realised my mistake of allowing him to take my right hand. The burst of white-hot fire from my forearm had me shrieking, stumbling forwards into L's waiting arms.

"Mi-chan!" both Misa and Sayu cried at once.

Taking a deep breath, I spoke into L's chest. "Thank you for coming." My lips brushed his cotton shirt.

L was silent. As blackness overtook my vision I finally heard him whisper into my hair, breath ruffling the strands and warming my scalp.

"I'll always come."

* * *

The world burned around me in tune with the song in the air. Curtains, carpet, chairs, everything was aflame. The painstakingly stoked bookshelf was reduced to ash in a matter of minutes. The only things that survived the savagery of the fire were the bodies. One on a chair, the other on the floor. Each groaned and complained wordlessly.

Something was different this time, though. I knew those bloodied and dying people.

Soichiro, seated in the chair, jerked his head to the left spasmodically. Sachiko let out an ear-piercing scream.

I shrank back and stumbled into someone's legs.

In the seamless way the dreams distort reality, the fire died away and I was left staring at a pair of inhuman black eyes. A chuckle reverberated in the back of my mind, bypassing my ears. The eyes flickered red. The wide grin turned into a smirk.

A roar had me turning around and wildly taking the tall, sun soaked grasses on all sides as well as the bear running towards me. It was a massive male grizzly, over two metres long and its shoulder at chest level. It reared on its hind legs, I fumbled with the rifle in my hands and with a massive paw it swiped across my stomach. A spray of blood arced through the air, splattering the bear's fur. Gasping and holding my stomach to keep my intestines from falling out of the wound, I fell to my knees.

"V!" cried Quinn. He was sprinting in my direction. It was too late for him to notice Ryuk hovering above with his Death Note in hand.

"Kill him," said Light, who stood where the bear had been, smiling down at me. We were in the park and badly tuned bikes circled the tree line. Catcalls and jeers broke the silence of the night.

With a flourish Ryuk wrote in his notebook. Quickly, too quickly, Quinn gasped and fell face forward, clutching his chest. "NO!" I screamed. My attempt to rush to him was destroyed by L's arms around my waist.

"Don't go, Valerie," he whispered in my ear. "I will keep you safe."

Kira held out a hand. All trace of Light was gone. "Try to save me, Minerva. Join me and rule the world. Maybe there is hope for me yet." He bent down and pressed cold, lifeless lips to mine.

And through it all Quinn's guitar played.

* * *

I woke up screaming. Sayu rushed into the bedroom with Misa hot on her heels. She raced to my side and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, burying her face in my neck. "It's all right," she murmured, over and over again. It sounded like she was saying it more to herself than me. It seemed I wasn't the only one reaching their breaking point in amongst all this madness.

Frozen in my sitting position from when I had bolted upright, I saw the unfamiliar room I'd been placed in. No more 1920s American architecture. This room had cream painted walls, a large bronze mirror and a double bed with a duvet thicker than the ones we'd used in Canada during winter. Everything was sleek and modern and made for comfort in minimalist style. Misa stood by the chest of drawers beneath the mirror, watching us.

The voices had stopped talking and Quinn walked into the room, slamming the brown door behind him. His presence jolted me out of my statue state.

"Q!" I gasped, pushing aside Sayu with as gentle movements as I could allow. He came over and I bundled him up in my arms, holding him like we'd been apart from years. The vision of him collapsing from a heart attack invaded my mind's eye. I clutched him tighter.

He bunched up the back of my shirt in his hands and returned the hug. "What was your dream about?" he asked. Usually such a question was off limits but it had been a long time since any dream had caused me to act like this.

"You died," I whispered.

"Oh." Then, after a beat, "I don't want to be here."

 _He must hate this to resort to complaining,_ I thought. "I know. I don't want to be here either."

"We need to talk."

"Soon, okay? When we're alone."

He nodded, his hair tickling my ear. For a moment longer we held each other, not willing to let go. Then Misa coughed and the spell was broken. Quinn extricated himself from my grip and held out a hand. I took his help in standing up gladly and was pleased to see as the covers fell back that I was clothed in a tank top and my black pyjama pants.

Sayu rushed to my side, pushing past Misa, and assisted me to the door. With nothing else to do, Misa opened the door and ushered us through. I spared her a grateful smile that was fainter than I would have liked. The dregs of the dream weighed heavily in my mind.

Quinn and Sayu supported me down a short corridor, similarly styled in cream and brown. There wasn't any need for them to do so; I was strong enough to walk on my own. It was more for their comfort than my need, I realised. They must have seen me collapse too many times in so many months.

We emerged into a sitting area, with comfortable chairs, a view of the west of the city – could you see Light's house from here? – and a well stocked kitchen. There was the soft sound of fabric rubbing on fabric as Light and L shot to their feet from the couches upon our entrance.

"How do you feel?"

"Are you well, Valerie?"

The two shot each other looks of contempt that were barely veiled. Sayu and Misa, who stood at her shoulder, exchanged glances. Quinn's grip around my waist strengthened.

"Better now," I said. With a gentle touch to his forearm, Q got the message to relax. "Bad dreams, that's all."

"You should sit down," said Light while L bit his thumbnail. The habit still disgusted me.

I was lead to a comfortable two-seater facing the windows. As soon as I was seated Misa pounced on the cushion next to me, leaving Quinn and Sayu to take another sofa on which Quinn's guitar was lying. He picked it up and appeared to be fiddling with the tuning pegs. His and Sayu's intertwined hands under the guitar's body were obvious only from where I sat.

My attention from the two was drawn away by Misa suddenly running her hands through my hair, saying, "You should let me do your hair, Mi-chan. I bet I could make it look amazing!" It was only her words that alerted me to the awkward silence in the room. That's when the full situation hit me.

L and Light were in the same room and had been in each other's company for however long I'd been unconscious. Oh, this could not be good. Not good at all.

Not to mention Ryuk and Rem were nowhere to be seen. That did not bode well either.

"Light-kun has told me that you were offered a job at Daikoku Academy," said L when no one else spoke up.

 _Or you have been monitoring my activities,_ I thought ruefully. "Yes. The principal is going to tell me after the closing ceremony."

L bit his thumbnail harder and rubbed his ankle with a foot. The fidgeting had me on edge.

"I had Watari cancel the offer."

My jaw dropped. _He . . . what? Did he really?_ My hands clenched on my lap as I tried to stop from lunging at him. As I struggled to gain command over my rage Quinn and Light burst out in angry protestations.

"Ryuzaki!"

"You bastard!"

"You had no right!"

"You can't screw with my sister again!"

Sayu jerked back from Quinn, horrified by his rage. He let his guitar fall to the floor and stood up, ready to advance on L. It had been years since I'd seen him this angry. Just over two, in fact. And at L again.

Light's hands were balled into fists and if he'd been any different he might have swung already. I could see the ferocity in his eyes, which I doubted anyone else could. For him to be so incensed on my behalf . . . I couldn't quite work out if it was because one of my few sources of income and sanity had just been stripped from me or because L had gone behind Light's back and disrupted Light's 'family' for a second time.

Still, the idea that Light might be enraged due to my misfortune was touching.

"She is in no state to work," L replied. This only set the flames burning hotter. As both Quinn and Light took a step towards the detective I thought I should speak up.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" I asked L, ignoring the others.

"You were asleep and there wasn't time to waste."

I frowned. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days."

That stumped me. My struggling to comprehend my continous stretches of prolonged unconsciousness of late gave Light the perfect opportunity to add his two cents.

"Ryuzaki, surely you agree that after the summer holidays Minerva would have been ready to work. She only needs a break."

"You don't understand, Light-kun."

Light gritted his teeth. "Then explain it to me."

L's eyes narrowed almost imperceptably. There was a large amount of tension between the two. The reason for Light's ill humour was obvious; L was the one trying to hunt down Kira, and if I flattered myself I could add that he was irritated by L and I's relationship. On L's side the reasoning was a little less clear; it was apparent me being so close to Light wasn't something he was pleased by, but then there was the question of Kira. Did he suspect Light? And if he did, then what did that hold for the three of us?

In the back of my mind a voice suggested that now might be the time to choose sides. I'd sat on the fence for too long. Light or L.

"Valerie will not be able to be a teacher while in her current state of mind. More stress will trigger harsher reactions until catatonia." He glanced at me then, as if to say _'You know it's true.'_

Annoyed and more than a little put-out, I nodded sullenly, crossing my arms and allowing Misa access to my hair. She immediately began finger-combing through the thick, wavy strands.

"Why are you so certain, Ryuzaki?" Light asked.

"It does not matter."

"I think it does," Quinn spoke up. I stared at him, now openly confused. He had moved to be at Light's side in a show of solidarity against L. It hit me then that for all that Quinn didn't like Light, in my brother's mind he was the lesser of two evils. As a result, he would stand with Light.

Well. It seemed my side had been chosen for me.

 _This is Kira._ Kira. _You cannot be loyal to him._

 _No. I'm loyal to Light and I will destroy Kira before it can destroy any more of him._

I cut off the nagging voice in the back of my head, pledging myself to my decision and feeling strength rise within me as my resolve did. Light would not be defeated by the monster within him if I could help it.

L's eyes were obviously narrowed now. "Quinn, Light-kun does not need to know."

"Yes, he does," said Quinn. "Tell him how you let my sister get carved up with a knife, L. Tell _Light-kun_ how she screamed and you didn't hear. Tell him how you didn't even bother to look for her so _I_ was the one to find her, even though you _promised_ to take care of us. Tell him how you lied. Tell him how you _failed,_ " Quinn snarled the word, his gaze animalistic with what I hoped wasn't bloodlust.

I once asked L what his greatest fear was. It had been after dinner, when BB was nowhere to be found and Quinn had closeted himself in the music room, hiding from Mello. Knowing he would be safe as Mello hadn't seemed very intent on tormenting my brother that day in an example of his changeable moods, I'd spent the time discussing the phobias that we'd learnt in the schoolroom that day. The conversation had naturally led to me revealing my personal terror was of fire. L had in return said he wished to never fail, because in his line of work it usually meant someone died and a monster went free. I'd told Quinn the next day under the willow tree during lunch.

L's eyes glanced over to me briefly, sparking the memory. A twisted pride welled in my chest at Quinn's easy metaphorical stabbing into the heart of a person. In some ways we really were similar.

Light was now gleeful, though only the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth betrayed it. He put his hands in his pocket in a blatant display of his ease as a contrast to L's discomfort. But L had been playing this game for longer.

Spinning on his naked heel, L strode over to the window and looked out, hunched as ever. His hands were in his pockets also.

Misa's fingers continued to card through my hair, french braiding one side, though I could sense her eyes on the proceedings. Sayu hugged a pillow to her chest, eyes wide.

"I failed once." His voice was quiet. He spoke to himself more than to us. In the window, through which the early spring sun could be seen touching rooftops and setting eastern windows ablaze, his reflection was little more than a vague idea. "I promised not to fail again." It was as good an apology as I would ever get and from the expression on Light's and Quinn's faces, they knew it too. It didn't mean they were any less angry.

Then L turned again and faced Light, expression hard and unrelenting. "What are you intentions towards Valerie, Light-kun?"

If Light was taken aback he didn't show it. "She is a good friend," he said. L raised an eyebrow and moved forwards. Quinn tensed and Sayu darted up to pull him away, having the common sense to not let the blonde get within punching range of the detective. My brother moved back reluctantly, scowling.

"What are you intentions, Light Yagami?"

I stilled, not quite sure what was happening between the two of them. Light took his hands from his pockets. L did the same. A staring contest ensued, one that the rest of us didn't even attempt to interrupt. It was as though a spell had been cast, freezing us all in morbid fascination. Even Quinn had lost his mask of ire to be replaced with curiosity.

"She is a good friend," Light repeated, and those words carried a world of meaning.

Silence filled the room. In the quiet Misa had me swap places so she could get to the other side of my hair and as I moved something brushed my arm. Twisting my head as much as Misa would allow, I caught sight of bony arms and white muscle. I swallowed nervously, otherwise suppressing my knee jerk response to yelp in shock.

A sharp intake of air alerted me to Quinn.

He was staring at something over my shoulder, eyes wide and breathing coming in gasps. His fingers twitched spasmodically.

He was staring at Rem.

* * *

TOWRTA: So this chapter didn't go how I planned. I'd meant for so much more to be achieved but then the scene between Kira and Minerva got extended and suddenly I'd hit my word count. At least you've got another cliffhanger now (they're becoming an addiction, I swear). And sorry for the lack of Sayu and Misa in this chapter. Quinn's character growth has taken over.

Alex (anon): So are you still an L girl at heart (considering the bashing Quinn's giving him)? He's going to have a major roll too now since I can't imagine he'll let V out of his sight any time soon. Oh the fun to be had!

Don't have time to write much - got a dinner to go to (sorry JaegarsWings for bypassing you! I wanted to get this chapter out quickly! Any grammar comments would be appreciated still.)

Next time: Rem makes a splash


	17. Kidnapper

Chapter Sixteen

 _What happened next I will always regret. I know, in the end, everything turned out as well as I might have hoped, but in my heart I wonder if there wasn't another way. A lot of pain could have been saved if I had stopped Quinn walking out that door._

 _But I didn't. I let him and Sayu walk out of my grasp and for that I can't forgive myself. Ever._

 _Do you feel the same way about your sister?_

* * *

"Quinn." His eyes snapped to me. It had been a long time since I'd seen that amount of horror in his face. There was something about Shinigami that brought out the primal terror within humans. "Do you want to have that talk now?"

Quinn gulped and nodded, all righteous anger smothered by a tidal wave of fear, disgust and abject confusion. He made to look at Rem again and I shook my head ever so slightly. It wouldn't do for either Light or L to notice that Quinn was terrified by thin air.

"L, is there anywhere we can talk in private without cameras microphones?" The detective cocked his head to the side, considering. Around the thumb pressed to his lips he said,

"The roof."

Nodding in thanks, I stood up, gesturing to Rem behind my hand with a quick flick of my fingers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her float through the ceiling. Quinn's gaze followed her.

I walked towards Quinn, hand outstretched to take his. His fingers slipped between mine and he led me to a door down the hall. I could feel the eyes of the others burning into our backs. The silence was oppressive. We made our way up a stairwell. When the door to the roof closed behind us I let out a sigh of relief. The chill air of spring cleared my nose and throat, allowing me to breathe easily for what had to be the first time in days. When was the last time I was outside? Oh, that's right. When I was being slashed up by Misa's attacker. That seemed to long ago now.

The sun threw our shadows against the higher floors behind us. The silhouettes were long and distorted and a poetic thought darted through my mind that they were our baggage and pain manifested. Seeing Quinn's stretched shadow stretched spiked irrational guilt in my chest. He didn't deserve to deal with everything I placed on his shoulders and yet he stayed all the same even though he could leave me to my fate and wash his hands clean of my madness. What had I done to deserve him?

"What is it?" asked Quinn, who was staring at the Shinigami perched on top of a large satellite dish. Rem was a dark spot on the rising sun, her spindly wings open.

"A death god," I said. "A Shinigami."

Quinn stumbled back, hands clenched by his sides and breathing hard. "Those aren't real," he said, shaking his head.

"They are."

"They can't be!" He turned on me. The terror was back and stronger than ever. "God never made them!"

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, thinking fast. Fitting the reality of death gods into my accepted religion was still a sore spot for me and I could see no way of explaining it to Quinn when I didn't know myself. So I said, "How do we know that? Maybe it was the Devil who created them."

Quinn's hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning a bloodless white. In a broken, cracking voice he asked, "Why is it here?"

"She won't hurt you," I reassured, holding my hands out, palms up.

"She!"

"Yes," said Rem. Quinn let out what could almost have been a shriek that he muffled with his hand. I'd never seen my brother like this before. It was more disturbing than any nightmare I'd had.

"Don't talk to him," I told Rem. She nodded, folded her wings and crouched patiently on the edge of the dish. Quinn allowed me to approach him and take him into a hug. He didn't reciprocate. Slight shivers were running down his spine and his eyes never left Rem.

"She's real. Her name is Rem. She gave me a notebook. That's what you wanted to talk to me about didn't you?"

"The Death Note," Quinn whispered.

"Where is it?" I asked.

"In my sock drawer. What does it do?"

"How come you have it?"

"I found it when we were moving things out of your room."

"Did you show anyone else?"

"No. You'd hidden it. What does it _do_?"

"Shinigami use it to kill humans. They write down a person's name and take the remaining lifespan of the person so they can stay immortal."

Quinn was silent for so long I thought he might have gone into shock. Slowly, cautiously, I pulled away and held him at arm's length, my hands on his shoulders. He was still wide-eyed yet his breathing was back to normal. I only hoped that the inevitable end to this conversation wouldn't send him off the edge.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, "How do they kill people?"

I swallowed. "They picture the person's face and write down their name."

"How does the person die?"

And here we came to the painful truth that I'd been avoiding for so long. Now I regretted not telling him sooner. I could see no possible way of Quinn forgiving me for this.

 _Deep breaths. It might not turn out so bad. Have faith in him._

 _Yeah right._

"If you don't specify they die of a heart attack."

There was a pause. Another. Another. My brother's face lost all colour. He'd put some of the facts together. Thankfully not all of them though. I knew that would result in a lot more than horrified silence.

"Kira has a Death Note?"

"Yes."

"But . . . how do you know how it works? You hadn't written anything in it." And at that I almost smiled. He hadn't even considered that I could have written on a ripped out piece of paper. He trusted me.

"I saw a Death Note that was written in."

Quinn glanced at the Shinigami. "Re – Rem's?"

"No."

His breath caught. "Kira's?" I nodded. Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Who is Kira?"

With a shaky half smile that was more of a grimace, I said, "I think you can guess."

It took mere seconds for him to link the dots and in that time I braced myself for whatever he could throw at me. Even so, it was like a stab to the heart to see the absolute betrayal, revulsion and fear twist my darling brother's face as he wrenched himself out of my grasp.

"Why – why didn't you . . . Light is . . . and you – you let him _live_ with us! And you _knew_ what he was!"

"I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, stepping forward. He backed away three steps for my one. "I didn't know how to tell you and I couldn't . . ."

"He was in _our house_! He's a murderer, V!"

"I know! I thought I could –"

"He's a bloody psychopath!"

"Quinn, will you listen to me!"

"You _slept_ with him!"

That stung more than I thought it would, but instead of trying to explain what had happened that night, I shouted, " _I thought I could save him!_ "

Quinn's jaw clicked shut and he stared at me. Taking this as an opportunity to plead my case, I went on.

"You can't tell _anyone,_ Q. No one. Not even Sayu. I thought I could stop him from killing people. He needs a _true_ name, Q. He doesn't know ours so we're safe. And then, when Sachiko and Soichiro died I thought about running but then I'd be leaving Sayu and she's not safe so –"

"Sayu!" Quinn spun on his heel and ran for the roof door.

"Quinn, she's not in danger _now_!"

"I don't care!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I'm not going to leave her alone with a _murderer._ " The implied 'unlike you' stung. He flung open the door and sprinted down the stairs, his clanging footsteps fading from earshot until I heard the slamming of the door into the apartment.

Rem flew to my side, her toes brushing the grating on which I stood. I could think of nothing to say. It was like my ability to speak had left, stolen by Quinn in his flight from the roof.

"What will he do?" she asked. I shrugged.

"Leave."

"Will he come back?"

"He's got nowhere else to go." A strange emptiness washed over me, replacing my desperation for Quinn to understand with resignation. I should have known this was coming. It was only a matter of time. In the back of my mind I knew that soon I'd be sobbing, unable to handle having just lost my brother's trust possibly forever. For now I embraced apathy.

"Where were you if Quinn's only seeing you now?" I crossed the grate and rounded the satellite dish to lean against the railing of the tall building. The bustling and crowded city stretched on and on towards the shoreline and the ocean beyond. The sky was clear of clouds and a sea breeze whipped any fog from the air, leaving it clean and fresh and almost shimmering in the light of the rising sun. It was a perfect view for a horrible morning.

"Ryuk and I went to see the Shinigami King."

"Ryuk mentioned something about a king. What did you see him for?"

"Regarding you and Light Yagami retaining your memories if his Death Note is destroyed."

I whirled around so fast I almost fell over the railing, only just grabbing the top rail fast enough to avoid a fatal plunge to the pavement. "You what!?"

"We asked the king if you could keep your memories."

"Why?"

Rem thought for a moment. "Ryuk finds you entertaining and I do not want you . . . to forget me."

"Oh. _Oh_." I fumbled for words. "So . . . what did he say?"

"He is considering."

"I see. Well. I didn't think you would go so far." Breathing in deep, I met the eyes of the Shinigami. "Thank you." Rem nodded her head and returned to staring at the city. I did the same, not ready to return to the crushing weight of the apartment's atmosphere. Out here I could almost pretend there was nothing wrong. Just me, a death god and Tokyo.

* * *

The first thing I heard when the I opened the apartment door was "I'm not leaving Mi-chan!" Exchanging a glance with Rem – which I immediately regretted as I caught sight of another camera's red light winking at me across the corridor – I frowned and wandered into the sitting room. Misa was on her feet, standing shoulder to shoulder with Light against L. The detective was impassive and unmoving. There were no nervous jitters or restless shuffling; his hands were in his pockets and he stared at his aggressive interlocutors. Sayu and Quinn were nowhere to be seen. No doubt they were wandering the streets of Tokyo by now. Ryuk, surprisingly, was in the corner. I would have thought he'd be following Sayu on Light's orders.

"Misa-chan has work," said L lowly.

"I'm staying with Mi-chan! She needs me!" Misa stomped her foot, the picture of childish impertinence. Over her shoulder L caught my attention and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head, indicating that Misa wasn't as necessary to me as she thought.

"Watari will drive you," he continued, as though Misa hadn't said a thing. To Light he said, "And he will take you to your graduation."

"I would prefer to walk," said Light. His back was to me but I could imagine the cold smile, the appearance of cordiality that belied his anger. I could hear it on the tip of his tongue.

"You will not get there in time."

"I'll be fine, Ryuzaki." He turned away from L and spotted me waiting in the doorway. His expression changed from a false mask to one of genuine worry in a flash. Moments later he was dragging me into the bedroom at the end of the hall, closing the door and standing in front of me, both his hands holding mine. "What happened with Quinn?" he asked.

"We had a talk."

"About?"

"You." I made sure he couldn't mistake my meaning.

His grip on my hands tightened to the point of crushing as his eyes flashed that same red as before. His jaw was locked, face hard. For a moment I feared Kira would make a reappearance but his better judgement superseded his impulse to lash out. Slowly, his right hand uncurled from mine and reached up to touch my cheek, brushing a strand of hair back behind my ear.

With a voice so steady I could almost pretend he was stable, he asked, "Will you run like your brother?"

 _Now or never._

I interlocked our fingers on both hands.

 _He needs me._

"I'm not going anywhere."

He pulled me into the first hug we'd had in a long time and I clung to him. Terror was seeping in under my skin as the realisation that Quinn was no longer with me struck. He'd taken Sayu with him too and that left only L, Light and Misa in my camp.

"How did everything get so complicated?" I murmured into Light's shoulder. He chuckled and held me closer. I closed my eyes, blocking out the way Rem's shadow was falling across Light's face.

"You have to go to the graduation ceremony."

"You're not coming?"

"L won't let me."

Light's fingers dug into my back as he tensed. Only a few days keeping company and already they were at each other's throats. Surely that was some kind of record.

Suddenly Light pulled back. He placed his hands on my jawline, his thumbs following the curves of my cheeks. "I don't trust him," he said. "Be careful, Minerva. He'll try to use you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Hypocritical much?"

"Minerva, come on. Now's not the time," he said wearily.

"Sorry." I put my hands up. "I'm just trying to figure out how much of this is real or not."

Light glanced at the camera in the corner of the room, groaned and let go of me. "What did Quinn say to you?"

"Nothing."

" _Minerva_."

I rolled my eyes. "Light, don't make me tell you. Otherwise I'm going to break down and then L won't let you near me." Light's lips twitched but he otherwise didn't pounce on my wording.

"Ryuzaki can't tell me what to do."

"Oh, can't he?" I put my hands on my hips, enjoying this break from my tedious internal angst.

"No." A smirk was dancing on his lips and his arms snaked around my waist, tugging me to him once more. I didn't resist.

"How come you and him are so annoyed at each other?" I asked. I'd already formulated my ideas of course, it was just interesting to hear it from the source.

Light's smirk was in full force now. "You know the answer to that."

"Do I?"

Light tipped my chin with a finger and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. My eyes closed of their own volition and when I opened them I saw an unfamiliar grin lighting up his face.

"Yes, you do," he said and he disappeared through the door, leaving me confused, flushed and altogether frustrated with every male in my acquaintance apart from Watari.

* * *

"Have a seat, Valerie." The detective was speaking English, his accent apparent. I took the seat L offered, curling up on the couch Misa and I had occupied. Then I caught sight of Quinn's guitar still on the floor and abandoned my place to get it. To my relief, the instrument was undamaged from its fall. Quinn, once he'd come to grips with the revelation of Shinigami and Kira, would not have been happy to find it broken in any way. It was a present from Granny Hiro, on our first Christmas.

"Where can I put this?" I asked. L didn't reply. He was staring out the windows, lost in thought. It was Watari who answered the question.

"I can take that to Master Quinn's room, Miss Minerva." He stood a doorway leading off of the sitting room. In his right hand was a large white box with the name of a pastry shop stamped on the lid.

"Thanks." We swapped items and he went down the hallway towards the room I'd awoken in, turning off at the third door on the right. Knowing myself as I did – lack of sweet tooth and all – it was obvious the box of what appeared to be red velvet cupcakes was not for me. As soon as I placed it on the table L was on the armchair, leaning to open the lid and pluck one from the box with two fingers. He held it at eye level, examining the chocolate frosting and black baking cup with an expert eye. Apparently satisfied, he took a large bite, at odds with his delicate hold on the cake. In a show of many years of practice, and I had no idea how he managed it even though I watched, there was no icing or crumbs on his mouth at all.

"Sit down, Valerie," he said, waving his hand to the couch adjacent to his chair again. I sat on the cushion furthest from him, suppressing my distaste with his propensity to talk with his mouth full. He'd never cared, as long as I'd known him. Biting fingernails, insulting fellow people, talking while chewing, they were all the same to him; things people of 'lesser intelligence' took as offensive when a person of true intellect would understand the stifling quality of social standards. He'd given me a lecture on the subject when I was eleven.

For a moment we were in silence. My thoughts immediately set upon Light, finding him easier to puzzle out that dwelling on the rift that I'd caused between Quinn and I.

He'd kissed me. Well, that was partly unexpected and yet not. We had, after all, been a semi-relationship, even if it was for the benefit of the cameras – and the annoyance of the watchers on the other side – and so it was not implausible that he might want to start it up again when around L. Still. There was something there, something more than just manipulation. That _grin_. Was it possible that Light actually held emotion for me that was deeper than interest and my status as a liability? All signs on the surface pointed towards such a conclusion but instinct, ingrained from countless encounters with his murderous self told me to run and keep running with Quinn and Sayu and Misa.

 _Misa?_

Well, yes. I guess Misa was part of the small family I'd created, even if we'd only known each other for a few days. Her innocence had to be protected and the only way I could do that was to either push her away or make sure Light and L didn't get their hooks into her skin. And from what I'd seen of her determination to stay by my side, the former wasn't an option.

I sighed, putting my head in my hands. Why did I constantly pick up strays? It was always the hopeless cases, the lost ones, those in pain that I drew to me. What was it about the stable, unhurt ones that deflected my interest?

In my periphery Rem sat on the couch at my side, not putting a dent in the soft cotton cushion. She watched L, her heavy, silent gaze unmoving. L must have felt something because he moved his attention from the cupcake to me.

"Watari can bring you your sketchbook, Valerie."

"Oh. Thanks." L glanced over my shoulder and I heard footsteps recede down the hallway again. I hadn't even noticed Watari returning. In a few moments he was back, standing in front of me holding the sketchbook and pencil case I carried in my bag in his hands.

"Miss Minerva, would you like anything to eat or drink?" asked the old man, his voice the picture of politeness. Always shocked by his new investment in my well-being, I shook my head in silence. He smiled and walked out the other doorway. I watched the back of his suit jacket disappear around a corner.

 _Finally. A distraction._ I cracked open the sketchbook and flipped to the last used page. A finished sketch of Quinn, Sayu, Light and Misa looked back at me, taken from the internal photograph in my head of them in my hospital room. Sayu and Misa pored over her latest magazine spread on the end of the bed while Light and Quinn, despite their lack of friendship, carried an easy conversation about classes at Daikoku. To see them smiling, sitting there at the windows without a hint of what was going to happen with a day due to me was painful.

An memory from the gallery rose in my mind. _"Why does it have to be me? It's so unfair."_

 _Maybe it isn't so unfair after all. If I'm going to hurt those closest to me, at least I get to suffer too._ A bitter laugh escaped me and L frowned. Rem swivelled in her seat, tube hair flopping with her movement.

"Sorry," I muttered, turning over the page and searching through the pencil case. Finding a sharp pencil, I placed the tip on the paper, closed my eyes and sought for something to draw. Nothing. No image came to mind, no fleeting impression or inspired idea. Sighing again, I started to sketch without a clear picture of what I was drawing. My teacher from Whammy's would have glared at me.

An hour later, roused from the insensate state I'd fallen into by L getting up, I paid mind to what I'd drawn.

Three men and one boy. One held a knife, raised as if to strike; another had his mouth open, mid-speech; the third has his pen poised above his Death Note; the boy's eyes were wide, his expression a mask of terror, in the midst of stumbling back. And above them all reigned terrible creatures with bone-like wings, one black, one white, mouths of sharp teeth open in grins and eyes blazing.

I slammed the book shut and threw it onto the table. It skittered across the polished surface, hit the box of cupcakes and caused it to teeter on the edge. Only L's quick reflexes saved the carpet from a sugary demise. With one finger he slid it back on to the table, a good three inches from the side. One dark eyebrow rose in an obvious question.

"So," I started a little too cheerily, avoiding any attempts he might make to interrogate me. "Are the task force here?"

"Yes," he said, not dropping his inquisitorial expression. "They are downstairs."

"I'll have Watari give me a tour of the building . . . how's the investigation going?"

"We are monitoring a possible suspect now."

I narrowed my eyes. "Closely monitoring?" L nodded. "I see. Are you still going to hire Light?"

"I intend to hire him after his graduation ceremony."

"Right." I cast my eyes upwards, as if the ceiling might give me another topic for small talk. "How long are you going to let us stay?"

"For as long as you need."

My gaze snapped back to his. "Really? You're putting us up indefinitely?"

L inclined his head. "You're in need of a residence and having both you and Light here will make things . . . easier." I had no delusions of what he meant by that. Easier to keep an eye on. Easier to contain and control.

An incongruity occurred to me. "Wait, how come Misa was here? I didn't think you'd let her into HQ, let alone meet you."

"She was at your apartment when I was there. I had no other choice and she wouldn't leave you. She's attached to you."

"I saved her life. I suppose that makes her feel indebted."

L raised his eyebrow again, silently saying _'Really? Only indebted?'_

"Yeah, I know." I leaned on the armrest, chin on my hand. "At least Sayu likes her."

"What was your nightmare about?"

I jerked upright. "Why do you want to know?"

"I feel . . . worried about you." He voice was soft, concerned and timid, like he was scared to say such a thing.

I glared. "Don't pull that with me, L," I said, pointing at him. "The hesitance might play well against Light and Quinn but there's no way I'm going to deal with you putting up a false front. I get too much of it from Light. Tell me the truth and say it without sounding like a seven-year-old with his hand in a cookie jar."

L stopped playing with the hem of his jeans and actually smiled. "You never cease to surprise me, Valerie." His tone was back to the strength I remembered from Whammy's.

"Thanks. Now why do you want to know about my nightmares?"

"You've had them since before you came to the House. Have they been continuing since you left?"

"Not while I was in Canada." Apart from the bear incident, but he didn't have to know about that. "It was after . . . Kira, that they came back."

"Kira." L's hands tightened on his knees.

"Uh huh."

"What was this one about."

"Yeah, no. Sorry, but not even Quinn gets to know the full details."

"Valerie," he said quietly. "Human beings require confession in order to move on."

Now it was my turn to look disbelieving. "L, if you think I'm going to tell _anyone_ what happens in my dreams, you are mistaken." I held up a hand when he made to speak. "It's not that I don't trust anyone enough. It's my problem, no one else's. So let it go."

L remained silent, though mutiny was in his eyes. He took another cupcake and removed the baking cup, giving the action more attention than was necessary. Amused and strangely comforted by this, I leaned back in my chair and watched the world go by through the windows. Another stretch of peace ensued, only broken by Rem shifting on the couch. L's questioning, though way too personal to be answered, made me feel a smidgen of relief that he cared enough to ask and to stay with me despite the ongoing investigation. The twelve-year-old girl deep in the recesses of my head that yearned for his approval and affection was ecstatic.

After countless minutes, I wondered aloud, in English, "Do you think Kira will ever feel guilty?"

L's gaze sharpened. "Why?"

I frowned at the view of the city. "Because, whether or not he thinks he's doing good, to kill people is to mutilate a part of yourself. You can't take life and expect there to be no consequences to yourself. Only God has the power to do that, and He loves everyone."

"You believe God has the only right to take life without repercussions?"

"I believe that whatever God does is for the benefit of His plan, which is for the benefit of us all. For a human to murder for their own ends . . . imagine what must be happening to their soul. That much sin without redemption . . ." I thought of Kira, its wild eyes and terrifying grin. If anything could convince me of the evil of murder it was that being residing within Light Yagami.

"What do you think, Light-kun?" L asked. I jumped in my seat, twisting to see Light standing in the doorway Watari had departed through. He shoulders were stiff, his posture tense. He seemed almost disturbed.

Then he shrugged it off like it hadn't existed. With a laugh he said in Japanese, "Well, Minerva seems to be the expert on the subject. I'll defer to her." He came and sat beside me. Rem barely had enough time to phase through the back of the couch and float there, almost scowling.

It was as though a switch had been flipped by Light speaking in Japanese and the discussion of Kira ended. In its absence, an atmosphere of tension fell between Light and L. Light was smug, though I was sure L couldn't tell, and L's focus was now more riveted on his third cupcake than ever.

Light flung an arm around my shoulders, tugging me into his side. Instincts screaming caution, I curled up next to him, allowing my head to rest on his shoulder but nothing more. His arm moved to my waist, holding me closer.

 _What will Quinn do if he finds you like this?_ a sly voice asked. I thought of the kiss and an ashamed flush rose up my neck. I was betraying Quinn's trust one step at a time. What the heck was I thinking?

However, just as I was about to extricate myself from Light's embrace, Watari walked an envelope.

"Ryuzaki, Master Yagami, Miss Minerva," he said as he stood on the other side of the coffee table. "I have received a message for you." He passed the envelope to, bowed his head, and left. The envelope was unopened, with the words ' _To L, V and Light Yagami, A.K.A. Kira_ ' printed on the front. It was of a cheap make that could be purchased from any convenience store in Japan. Apart from the words, nothing about it was ominous.

Yet the writing was more than enough. Who knew that we were together, knew L's true identity, knew my nickname and suspected Light of being Kira?

L and Light exchanged a meaningful look and L slit the envelope open with his thumbnail. A single photograph and a sheet of paper were inside. As L drew the paper out the photograph fluttered free, floating through the air and coming to rest on the coffee table face up. My heart stopped.

In the monochrome photo were Sayu and Quinn, gagged, blindfolded and bound, lying in the back of a van evidently unconscious. My brother had been kidnapped. _My brother had been kidnapped._

A hysterical noise escaped me as I groped for the photo, staring at it in disbelief. The picture didn't change. On closer inspection Quinn's hair was matted with what could only be blood. _My brother had been hurt and kidnapped._ It had only been half a day since I saw him last. How could this have happened? Who would dare take my little brother?

"No," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "No, no. This isn't possible." Light and L looked up from reading the letter but all I could see was Quinn's prone form. Now beginning to panic, I flipped the photo over and found a line of writing on the back, printed in that same typewriter font.

 _Hello, V. Want your brother back? Then give me Kira or take their place._

 _\- M_

* * *

TOWRTA: Well isn't that a bit out of the left field? This isn't some random idea, by the way. I've been planning this since I started. I thought about dropping hints here and there but there was so much going on and really, what hints could I have put in? It's not like Minerva would have had any way of knowing this was about to happen and if L had caught on then obviously he would have put a stop to a possible kidnapping. So I feel perfectly justified in this. Hah.

Alex (anon): Have I told you I love your long reviews? They always make me smile. So Quinn did end up getting overwhelmed by it and that turned into a kerfuffle. Light has shown romantic feelings (though we don't know whether they are true or not). A lot of things about Light are going to be called into question now his sister and Quinn has been kidnapped and he's to blame. We'll have to see whether he's willing to sacrifice himself for Minerva or not and his decision is going to influence L's opinion of him greatly. L's emotional detachment is going to be seriously called into question here. If you've guessed who M is then I you can see why. This is getting a bit long so I'll cut it short (make an account so I can write ridiculously long replies to you!) and I hope to hear your response to this!

Anyway, tell me what you think and where it's going and feel free to monologue over Quinn or Minerva or what the heck is going on in Light's mind (because seriously, who knows?)

Next: phone call

Thanks for reading!

Yours Truly  
TOWRTA

R.I.P. David Bowie (the ever-fabulous Jareth) and Alan Rickman (the lovely Colonel Brandon and awesome Severus Snape). May what they have given to the artistic world always be remembered.


	18. Phone Call

30/01/16 edit: changed 'autumn' to 'spring'. Sorry. I live in NZ so I think in southern hemisphere seasons and had a momentary bout of silliness.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

"How . . ." I murmured. Suddenly rage flooded through my veins and I had only two outlets. Light – who was completely to blame for being Kira in the first place – and L – who had said, many years ago, that he would keep us safe. In present company, there was only one possible choice.

"How the _hell_ did Mello get to them!?" I yelled at the detective, throwing the photograph onto the table. It fluttered uselessly in the air and drifted to a stop, oblivious to my anger.

L snatched it up with two fingers and stared at the image, his brow furrowed. He began to bite his thumbnail. Light took the photo from him. His mask of curiosity cracked in two.

"Ryuzaki," he growled. "You told me Sayu would not be in any danger coming here." Beneath the fringe of his copper hair, his eyes were burning. "Who has taken my sister?"

"Mello," I answered. "A bully from the House who was lauded as one of the most intelligent, after BB, A and Near, of course."

"The House?"

Ignoring the warning look from L, I barrelled on, not caring what secrets I divulged now when _Quinn_ , the only person who had ever cared about me, was in the hands of a petulant child with a violent streak. "Whammy's House. The orphanage that trains orphans and unwanted children to become the next L."

"Valerie, don't –"

"– However, the first trainees didn't even get into the field! A committed suicide and BB turned out to be a psychopath! And now one of the next generation detective-wannabes has taken my brother and your sister because of some half-baked plan to lure Kira out." With a sound of disgust, I stood up, unable to be in the same room as the two men anymore.

"Where are you going?" L called out as I strode towards the corridor.

"To the roof so I can get away from you!" I slammed the roof door shut and sprinted up the stairs. Rem floated behind as I pounded across the sun drenched concrete to the railings. Breathing deeply, on the verge of hyperventilating, I forced myself to calm down. Quinn would not be able to get out of this mess if I wasn't thinking clearly.

It took a couple of minutes to get the panic and anger down to a simmer. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, held it for ten seconds, then exhaled, opening my eyes and seeing the situation with more clarity than before.

"Light won't give himself up," I said, half to myself, half to Rem. "He's too far under L's control to stop playing their game right now and he won't leave me alone with L. He's not safe, not yet." I tapped a finger to my chin, peering out over the city. The sun had passed its peak and was descending. A cool breeze had sprung up during my time inside. It was early spring; the nights would get cold quickly. Shifting, I faced Rem, not quite seeing her. Now I understood why Light told Ryuk almost everything. Having someone listen to you ramble was an easy way to come up with ideas. "Unless he thinks that giving himself up by 'pretending' to be Kira would throw L off. After all, Kira wouldn't be the type to hand himself over so willingly, so it may work. Would he risk it though? Allowing L access to me and all that I know without being there to intervene?"

"The note on the photograph asked for you to exchange yourself for them," said Rem in her deep, slow voice, monotony in every syllable.

"Yes, I know," I replied, attention on the city again. "If only I could find a way to get in contact with Mello without the other two knowing. They'd stop me for sure."

"You've got that right." I spun around. Light was leaning on the doorframe of the roof entrance, arms folded. Fom his heavier-than-normal breathing it was apparent he had only just climbed the stairs. My Rem secret was safe.

In the daylight the blue of his suit, worn for the graduation ceremony, was almost as bright as his hair. Ryuk flew from his side to perch on the satellite dish. "You are not giving yourself to Mello."

"Like you can stop me." I crossed my arms mimicking him.

He pushed away from the frame, closing the door as he did so, and strode forwards, over the grate, coming to a stop only three feet away. His expression was sardonic.

"You should know by now how L and I care little for social standards. If we have to chain you to a chair to keep you here, we will."

"On L's team now? And I thought he was Ryuzaki."

"Minerva, your ability to change the subject never ceases to be astounding." He took one more step, which brought him without arm's length. With the railing at my back and a twenty storey drop beyond, there was nowhere for me to go. I licked my lips. His eyes followed the movement.

"I need to save my brother."

"We can save your brother _without_ you putting yourself in harm's way."

"I'm already in harm's way," I said quietly. Light's concern dropped away. I bit the bullet. "Promise me something, Light."

He was silent for a long moment, scrutinising me with almost inhuman intensity. Finally, he nodded.

Taking another deep breath, I said, "If I die, you will destroy the Death Note."

Light's jaw clenched, his hands fisted, his eyes burned. I waited patiently as a thousand thoughts raced through his mind, nearly all of them hidden from me. When had it become so hard to read him? During the month I wasn't talking to him? So many things were happening, it was hard to keep track.

"You know I can't do that," he bit out.

"You promised!"

"I am creating a new world. No one can do it but me."

"I've said it before, you're creating a world of fear. Nothing good comes of killing!"

"It is a necessary evil in order to remove those unworthy."

"It's an evil that got my brother and _your sister_ stolen!"

"I knew there would be collateral damage when I started."

My mouth fell open.

Light's stoicism immediately collapsed into imploring regret. "Minerva, you know I didn't mean –"

"Didn't mean that you planned for your family to die from the moment you became this – this _monster_? That you hadn't factored Quinn and I into the equation? Because I know that's a lie." I shoved him, using all my strength. Running, yoga to avoid total mental breakdown, a couple of years hunting in Canada and hauling around heavy canvases meant Light didn't stand a chance when he wasn't expecting it. He stumbled, tripped on the grating and fell. I lunged, grabbing him by his lapels and preventing his ultimately painful smack into the metal bars. "Watch your head," I snarled. He barely had time to break his fall when I let go.

"By the way," I called over my shoulder as I stepped around him. "Next time you want someone to listen to you, try not to be so blatant about your absolute disregard for their siblings. It tends not to breed loyalty." Sketching a salute, I opened the rooftop door, stepped onto the staircase with Rem at my side, and sent the door crashing back into the frame, closing on Ryuk's laughter. Now, time to find Watari.

* * *

"Watari?" The elderly man looked up from scooping copious amounts of mint ice cream into a matte blue china bowl, decorated with a rim of white leaves and embossed trees. Wedgwood? Then again, this was L.

"Yes, Miss Minerva? How may I help you?" He wiped his hands on a pristine white dishtowel, folded it and placed it on the beige, marbled granite countertop. We stood in the kitchen, which was as minimalist and expensive as the rest of the apartment. It was accessed through the doorway off the living room, adjoined to a corridor that had warm yellow lighting from translucent lights high on the walls and boasted another bronze mirror, a cherry wood table and an elevator disguised as a pair of panelled wooden doors.

The kitchen was obviously high-end; the oven gleamed, an array of touch-sensitive icons along its front and the black stovetop spotless. The faucet emitted light according to the temperature of the water, the cream cupboards opened at a mere finger's pressure, and the wooden floorboards were dark cherry too.

Watari was at the island in the centre, surrounded by ice cream, more cupcakes, and souffles fresh from the oven. I had never imagined him baking, but then it was unlikely that every place L visited had bakeries up to his standards.

"Do you have any way of contacting who sent the envelope?"

Watari frowned. "You wish to speak with Mello?"

"You knew who sent it before it was opened?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded. "I received a phone call from Mello a few minutes prior to its arrival. I was on my way to tell L when the envelope arrived."

"Oh." I wandered further into the room, taking an apple from the metal fruit basket next to a tray of chocolate muffins. "So . . . can you get in contact with him?"

"He left a number, yes."

"Have you told L?"

"I thought it prudent not to bring it up while you were so upset."

"But you've had time since Light and I went to the roof."

He gestured to the sweets. "Ryuzaki was adamant that he get sugar quickly." I could see how that might have gone in my head; L cutting Watari off without the elderly gentleman having said a word, demanding any and all cake while he thought.

"Can I ask a favour then?"

"That is dependent on the favour, Miss Minerva."

I glanced at the kitchen door. It was closed but there was no guarantee that L may not walk in at any moment wondering about his lack of cake. There wasn't much time to do this.

"I need to talk to Mello."

Watari's frown deepened. "Miss Minerva, I must advise against this."

"I know you do. That doesn't change the fact that the only way Quinn and Sayu are going to be safe anytime soon is if I go to him in their place." The apple made a satisfying sound, halfway between a thud and thwack as I threw it from hand to hand.

Watari picked up the ice cream scoop again, adding one more sphere of frozen mint dessert, exchanged it for a metal cylinder. In seconds the green mounds were dusted with cocoa and he set to work slicing up a banana. Each slice was delicately placed on the top of a scoop, the rim sinking into the melting ice cream. Throughout I continued tossing the apple.

With the dessert finished and ready to be served to a sugar-obsessed detective, Watari went to the sink and washed and dried his hands. Then he leaned on the sink, facing me, his face aged suddenly.

"V," he said. I started. He hadn't called me that since he met me at my first orphanage, approaching me to ask about moving to the House. That had been the day I'd been named Valerie, at age nine. He'd heard about me through contacts within Paris, apparently, and once learning all he could, Watari, A.K.A. Whammy, had shipped Quinn and I to Whammy's House in England.

 _"_ _Hello, Miss V. I own an orphanage for special children in England. I have talked to your matron and director about letting you and your brother move to my establishment."_

 _"_ _From this moment on, you will be known as Valerie."_

 _"_ _Welcome to the Whammy's House."_

 _"_ _Miss Valerie, may I introduce you to L and Beyond Birthday."_

Shaking myself out of the reverie, I tuned back in to what the orphanage owner and inventor was saying.

"I cannot put one of my wards in such danger."

Incredulous, I said, "I'm not your ward anymore. I haven't been for almost three years!"

"Yes, but all the same, you are still one of my students. It wouldn't be right of me to allow you to put yourself in harm's way."

 _Where is this coming from?_ I wondered. _Since when did Watari care so much about people other than L?_

"Watari," I said slowly. "It is either me or Quinn and Sayu. We both know I'll be able to deal with whatever Mello can come up with much better than those two."

"When was the last time you painted?" he asked abruptly. Taken aback, I found myself lying.

"While I was in hospital."

"Are you quite sure?"

" _Yes_. Now will you give me Mello's number or not? We can't waste time while Quinn is in danger!"

Watari opened his mouth but at that moment L called out from the living room. "Watari!" The elderly man picked up the bowl of ice cream, levelled a look at me that said, _Don't move_ , and left the kitchen. I heard muffled conversation from the living room, too hushed for anything to be made out. I guessed L was questioning Watari on what we were talking about. I could only hope Watari had enough sense to realise that if he told L about Mello's phone number all chances of me saving Quinn were gone. L and Light would put me on lockdown to prevent any plan of mine to get to my brother. And just like that, Quinn and Sayu were in more danger than ever before.

It was as I was contemplating eating the apple that the door opened. Watari entered. Rem, who had been observing the large array of different earthly food, phased through the countertop to get out of his way.

"Here is the number," said Watari, handing me a small scrap of paper. He also held out a phone. "This is an untraceable mobile phone. It was made by one of L's contacts. You may ring Mello from this, but I suggest doing it outside. Even in here there are cameras and wiretaps."

"So people have been listening to our conversation?" A flash of alarm shot through me.

"No. I am the one who monitors the cameras throughout the building. I will take you down to the ground floor." He seemed to hesitate, his hands still outstretched even though I'd relieved him of the objects. He let them fall to his sides. "Whatever plan you make with Mello, you must tell me."

I nodded, not needing to think about it. Having someone who knew where I was going was a logical option to this scheme. "I trust you to tell L if it's necessary."

"Thank you, Miss Minerva. Follow me."

* * *

The elevator had opened into a lobby, one that held no identity of its own and could be found in any upmarket office building, hotel or bank anywhere in the world. Clocks showing times of major cities were arrayed around the walls, two large potplants squatted on either end of the reception desk and a nameless secretary clacked away with polished fingernails, typing endlessly into a state-of-the-art computer. Watari's footsteps rang out as we strode across the granite floor, of the same quality as the kitchen counters. He led me to the revolving doors, stopping only once we reached the bright street beyond.

"My number is on the phone," he said, facing me. "Call me once your business is concluded."

A surge of gratitude welled up within me for this man and, out of impulse, I hugged him. He stiffened for a second, then returned the embrace. Quickly, he released. I smiled at him.

"Thank you, Watari." He smiled back, a small curve at the corner of his lips, tipped the hat he'd put on as we left and walked back into the building. Now alone, I started down the street, Mello's number in my jeans pocket, Watari's phone in the other and no thought of where to go.

Of all places to end up, I found myself in the park close to Light's destroyed home, where the bikers had found me a second time. It seemed ridiculous to have my conversation with Mello there, considering all the bad things that had led on from coming to this place. My feet had other ideas, however. Without conscious thought, they led me through the streets of Tokyo, leaving the overcrowded city and into the relatively quieter suburbs.

The park was empty, thankfully. It was early afternoon on a Thursday, during the final week of official school when students were having their festivals and end of term tournaments. Next month Light started learning at To-Oh University. The small, cynical part of me that had been growing steadily during the year wondered if I would be alive to see him at the acceptance assembly. It was that part that had been nauseatingly aware of the piece of paper and phone burning holes through the material of my jeans during the walk.

I pulled out the silver device, flipping it open and turning it on. The screen lit up in a second with no network name or sign of a company allegience. Untraceable.

Before I could second guess myself, I typed in the number, pressed call and held it to my ear. Blood pumped behind my eardrums, almost deafening me. By doing this I was signing what just might be my own death certificate. An extended time with Mello in return for the release of Quinn and Sayu.

 _"_ _When was the last time you painted?"_

The true answer was almost two weeks ago, on the Monday of last week. A damn block had been on my mind ever since Misa's attack. Now the results were coming back to bite me; bad things happened when I didn't paint. Some people had a dependency on drugs. Mine was on the expression of my thoughts on the canvas through vivid colour.

Only my withdrawal symptoms tended to be a whole lot more severe.

The phone stopped ringing as the call was picked up. There was the crack of something I knew to be chocolate.

"Hello?"

"Mello?"

The line was bad, probably due to a long distance connection. The rustling of movement on the other end was almost hidden by the white noise buzzing through the speaker. Mello's voice crackled when he spoke.

"Valerie? Or are you Minerva now?"

"I assume you've been reading Ryuzaki's notes then?" I knew better than to talk about the detective in the open.

"Matt hacked in. It was easy."

"Matt?"

"He came after you and Quinn left."

"Ah." _Enough small talk._ "I want my brother back, Mello."

"Only if you give me Kira." His voice was at the awkward stage when it cracked every few sentences. It was hard to be intimidated by a boy going through puberty.

"Why are you so assured that Light is Kira?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"What, apart from L's notes?" I forced a sneer into my voice. It wasn't difficult. "You need to stop riding on L's coattails, Mello. What would Near say?"

Mello snapped off another piece of chocolate. I remembered that tick of his. It signalled a rising temper. "What Near thinks doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it? Then why did you proclaim him your mortal enemy when you were seven?"

"I _am_ better than him!" The line crackled as Mello moved away from the phone, obviously composing himself. It was almost laughably easy to rile the boy up. At fourteen he had yet to master himself and Near had always been a sore point. My plan now was to get him angry enough to give something away; Mello in a rage tended to make mistakes.

"I'm impressed, Valerie. I didn't think you would manage to get the number from Watari so quickly."

I scoffed. "You're going to pretend you planned for this to happen? For me to call you? I know you have ambition, Mello, but delusions of grandeur aren't attractive on anyone." Without conscious thought I started to walk, following the line of trees separating me from the road beyond. Green leaves were starting to grow from the boughs which had been dormant through winter. Flowers budded on the ends of twigs.

Mello's voice was surprisingly cool when he replied. "L would have asked for the envelope Watari was carrying before Watari could have said anything about the phone call. I know you love your brother, so as long as you were present when his kidnapping was revealed, you would've provided a big enough distraction to keep Watari from announcing the phone call. From there is was only a matter of time before you went for more information without L knowing. I know you, I know L and I know Watari. It was child's play."

"There seem to be a lot of holes in that plan, Mello."

He made a noncommital sound. "Even so, you would have found a way to call whatever the case."

"I'm flattered you remember so much about me. What have you done to Quinn?"

Mello bit off another piece of chocolate. "He's fine." There was something in his voice that was dark, angry. Hatred boiled below the surface. Did he really resent my brother so much? Why?

"Are you willing to make a deal for him?" he asked. I gritted my teeth.

"Yes. Me for him _and_ Sayu. Safe and sound back in Tokyo."

"Got it. There will be a car outside the central railway station tomorrow, six am. See you there."

"Wait!" I cried. "Why kidnap Quinn and Sayu? Why me? How can that help you catch Kira?"

Mello laughed. "Ask L. He's the one who thinks you're the key to bringing him down."

The line went dead. I stopped walking, staring at the screen. I glanced at Rem. Her expression was strangely understanding. Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I kept walking, head awhirl. L thought I was the key to toppling Kira. L definitely thought Light was Kira, there was no doubt about that. So L thought I had enough control over Light to somehow cause him to give up or turn himself in?

More than that, Mello was convinced as well?

I scoffed, saying aloud, "In what world do I have any command over Light?" Rem started, not expecting my scathing tone. Even though the question had been rhetorical, she mulled over it.

"Light values you and your opinion."

"Does he?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. We in the Shinigami realm have been watching you from the beginning of Kira's rein. He cares for you, Minerva, in a way he doesn't care for anyone else."

I thought about that. Psychopathic Light Yagami caring. Sometimes such a thing appeared possible, until it was destroyed by him saying something callous about collatoral damage or the like. Sometimes he looked at me in a way that spoke of interest beyond manipulation and the monitoring of a liability. Sometimes . . . I believed what Rem said. I believed he cared.

And didn't that make everything a whole lot harder?

"It's one thing caring about a person. It's another thing to have them feel the same way back," I murmured. Rem didn't reply. Groaning, I sat on the grass, rested my back against a tree and stared through the branches at the sky, willing my problems away. It took countless minutes until I had compartmentalised Quinn and Sayu, my lack of painting, Light and L, Mello and whoever this Matt was, Rem and Ryuk, and even Kuroda, Nozomi, Mikoto and Ayako, into separate boxes. My mind was left free. I was relaxed for the first time since the deaths of Soichiro and Sachiko Yagami.

The afternoon passed slowly, filled with cloud watching and the occasional roar of a car engine. No one entered the park. An spring wind whipped through my hair, sending it flying around my face. It had grown a lot since coming to Tokyo. I'd have to cut it soon. There was something comforting in thinking about something so mundane.

All too soon the sky had darkened and the cell phone was buzzing.

"Hello?" My voice was hoarse from the cold and lack of talking.

"Miss Minerva? Where are you and I will come to collect you."

"Thanks for making me sound like a parcel, Watari."

"You're welcome, Miss Minerva."

"I'm at the park near Light's old house."

"I shall be there presently." He hung up. I glanced at Rem, sitting on a tree branch a little to the right.

"Well. Reality calls. Time to become a hostage."

In that moment I decided I didn't care about Light or L anymore. Kisses and cupcakes and late night conversations in front of the fire or huddled on a couch meant nothing. A hardness settled in my heart as I thought of my brother and surrogate sister alone together, at the mercy of Mello – who undoubtedly had a vendetta against my brother which spoke of imminent violence. What would Sayu say when Mello revealed why they'd been taken? Would she cry for her brother, a boy hadn't cried for her once? How about L? Instinctively I knew he was looking at this situation from the mind of the detective, searching for ways to trap Kira in the web Mello had designed. No doubt he had spared less than a second's thought about Quinn's suffering.

 _That's it,_ I decided. _I'm done with second chances._

If they wanted forgiveness for all they'd done, they could save me from Mello.

I was done caring for anyone other than my own family.

* * *

TOWRTA: So. I'm a bit ashamed of how long it took for this to come out. I don't even know if it's good enough quality to make up for the long wait (and for me ignoring some of my pen-pals. Sorry guys!). After all, it is more of a filler chapter for the ultimate Mello Meeting. Tell me what you think though!

Less reviews than I would have liked for the last chapter. See if we can boost it for this one? Suggestions of what you want to see happen, funny anecdotes or even a bad joke are welcome. I love to hear from my readers and I always PM back if I can (or else I respond in-chapter to the anonymous ones). For example:

Guest (anon): lol. I totally agree (though maybe with not quite those words. Hmm, more like 'well, gosh darn. What in the blazing tarnations is that Mello up to?').

Next chapter might be a wee-while coming, because I'm on holiday for a week. Let's see how it goes.

Next time: mello, matt and the mafia

Yours Truly and God Bless

TOWRTA

* * *

Update 14/02/16: I apologise for no updates. A death in the family and getting ready for university has taken all my time. That, plus the fact that I'm starting university in just five days, means that I have had no time to write, nor will have any time in the near future. So, to the horror of myself, I am putting this story on HAITUS for the next while. Pre-med is evil and will take all my time. I hoped to have finished this story this summer but it wasn't to be.

Don't worry. I'll be back in less than a year and it will be done!


	19. The Pale Horse

. . . I'm sorry. I've been planning this for four years now and . . . I'm really sorry. On that note, only two more chapters and an epilogue to go.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

It was easier to avoid Light and L than I thought it would be; every brain cell between them was devoted to finding Sayu and Quinn. The threat of tying me to a chair seemed to have slipped Light's mind entirely. Watari had told them I spent the afternoon in the control room with him, so that's where I spent my evening too. Sketchbook on my lap, huddled in the corner, I tried to free myself from fear. Every time my pencil touched the paper the images came out distorted and terrible.

Before I knew it, Watari was shaking my shoulder. I jerked up, the blanket around my shoulders falling to the cold floor. I'd fallen asleep over my sketchbook.

"Miss Valerie, I have packed some of your things and have a car waiting. We should depart now." The old man was worried, it was obvious in his eyes.

"Thanks, Watari." He helped me to my feet and waited while I gathered my sketchbook and pencils. The book naturally opened to drawing of Quinn, BB, Light and L, sparking an urgent thought. Gelus' Death Note. It was in Quinn's sock drawer. Would anyone search his things? Should I move it?

No. It was safer amongst Quinn's socks than anywhere in my room, where Light and L might search once my disappearance was noted.

"Do you wish to say goodbye?" asked Watari as we walked along the concrete corridor to the stairs. I shook my head. We stopped by the kitchen on the first floor, which was identical to the one in the apartment upstairs. I entered first, which was a lucky thing because Ryuk was inside, raiding the apple basket. I stared at him, incredulous. Did he not _see_ the camera blinking at him in the corner of the room?

"Heard you're leaving," he said, munching loudly.

"Watari?" I said, quickly darting back into the hallway and closing the door behind me to stop him seeing the floating apple. He pulled up short, startled.

"Yes, Miss Valerie?"

"Could you take these to the car?" I held out the pencil case and sketchbook. "I need a minute to just . . . wrap my head around things."

Watari examined my face with a practiced eye, gained from years of having to understand egotistical genius children better than they understood themselves. He nodded once and took my load.

"Of course. The car is in the garage. I suggest taking the stairs, not the elevator."

"Thanks, Watari."

"Be quick, Miss Valerie. The task force are still here." With that warning, he left me. I went back into the kitchen, frown set firmly in place.

"What are you doing?" I asked, deciding that in the face of my imminent imprisonment by Mello, Watari reviewing the tapes and believing me mad for talking to nothing was the least of my worries.

Ryuk chuckled, plucking another apple from the steel basket. He threw it into the air and managed to swallow the entire thing in one gulp. "Rem told me 'bout your deal with Mello."

"Blasted Shinigami," I muttered under my breath. "What do you want, Ryuk?"

"To say goodbye."

"And?"

Ryuk stopped playing with the apple in his hands. "That's it," he said, his tone soft beneath his normal scraping gravel. He shook himself, his nose wrinkling in a way it'd never done before. When he spoke again his voice was stronger. "I'm gonna miss you."

"You can still see me," I pointed out, ignoring the fact that an ancient god of death had just admitted to an attachment to me. "Just follow along to wherever it is Mello's taking me." Hey, that was an idea. Why didn't Light just get Ryuk to find out where Sayu and Quinn were?

Then try to explain how he found them to L. Never mind.

"Yeah, but Light wants me around him right now. You know what he's like. Gotta have his _sounding board_." He winked. I'd used the term once to describe Light and Ryuk's relationship. It was slightly heartwarming to know he'd been listening.

"Since when did you listen to Light, Ryuk?" The Shinigami shrugged, grabbing another apple. "Well, keep in touch anyway. I'm sure Rem will follow me."

"She's been watching Quinn for ya."

"Really?"

"Yup."

I smiled. "I'll say thanks when I see her then. Well, later, Ryuk."

"See ya, V."

I flinched at the name. He pretended not to see.

* * *

"Miss Valerie." Watari held the door open for me. I thanked him, stepped out of the Rolls Royce, and looked around. We were outside the central railway station, a long construction of towering brick arches leading to white tiled walls and floors. Even in the early morning there was a flurry of activity as commuters streamed in and out of the complex.

An odd sensation came over me. It was as though I stood behind a screen, watching them but feeling no connection. Too many extraordinary things had happened for me to feel part of the ordinary world again. These normal people wandered to and fro, caught in the constant humdrum of a worker's life while I was tossed from one ridiculous situation to another, dragging those I loved down with me. I asked myself if I would change places with any of them. It was disturbing to find I had no answer.

Watari caught me spinning a pencil between my fingers, a nervous tick from my Whammy days. He placed a hand on my forearm. Suppressing a jerk, I gave him a twitchy smile. The nerves were setting in now. In less than a day I would be in Mello's clutches. Would he really release Sayu and Quinn? A cruel voice whispered that he wouldn't.

"It will be alright, Miss Valerie," said the eldery inventor. "Quinn and Sayu will be safe and sound in no time." My smile became more genuine, but the uneasiness did not lessen.

Another car pulled up; a nondescript silver station wagon. A man stepped out of the passenger seat, lit a cigarette and glanced towards us. He jerked his head at the back door next to him.

"Well," I said, turning to Watari, "this is goodbye for now."

Watari gave me the saddest smile I had ever seen. "Good luck, Miss Valerie. L will get you out, be sure of that." I couldn't say another word in the face of that smile. It was the smile Granny Hiro gave to me when I had said I was going hunting with Marnie. It was a smile that somehow foresaw the future and knew that pain was coming, pain the person could do nothing to stop. It was a smile of love, of despair, of resignation. It brought back so many bittersweet memories that I could only stumble to the other car and not give Watari another glance.

"Where are we going?" I asked as the smoker shut his door and we set off. He and the driver wore the same leather jackets, white t-shirts and jeans. The same ugly, heavy boots. At a glance it was apparent they were American; probably part of Mello's gang sent over to retrieve Quinn and Sayu and whomever was to take their place.

"The airport," said the smoker. His accent was well defined in his hoarse voice. Definitely American.

"And then?"

"You don't need to know that." He turned in his seat. In one hand was a white cloth. The other held a black hood. I opened my mouth to scream and got a mouthful of chloroform.

* * *

I was tied to a chair. Wonderful.

"Take her hood off." The blackness was torn away. The world danced, colours merging, dissociating, dispersing like white light through a Perspex block. Eventually it settled and Mello's very young, very angry face was the centre stage. I was determined not to submit to him. I flicked on my passive aggressive switch.

"Mello," I greeted. "Always nice to see you again. You haven't aged a day."

The boy was shorter than Quinn. It must have riled him up like nothing else. His hair was cut short, a severe bob that framed a face trying to be cruel. He had the twisted, sneering mouth down pat, but his eyes were too soft for the image to be complete. Perhaps he knew it and that's what all the leather was for.

"Valerie," he said. We were in a building without windows. Vents set high up in the concrete walls brought the sound of waves crashing into the room, reverberating around what had to be a warehouse. An abandoned warehouse by the docks. A large set of tracks, not unlike tram tracks, ran through the centre of the floor to a huge roller door of corrugated iron. A warehouse where ships used to be built, then.

A cool spring breeze tickled the back of my neck. We were still in the northern hemisphere. The breeze wasn't cold enough to be _very_ northern. Coupled with the American accents . . . California? Oh.

"Why L.A.?" I asked. The name was a reminder of a series of unfortunate murder cases. A reminder I could have done without.

Mello's eyes narrowed. He said nothing.

"V?" Quinn's voice cut through the quiet like a muffled gunshot. My attention was diverted from Mello in a heatbeat, scoping out the building for wherever the maladjusted teenager had hidden my brother and surrogate sister. Over his shoulder I saw a crude cage set up along the far wall, created from planks of rotting wood hammered together. Between the slats I spied two pairs of anxious eyes.

"Quinn! Sayu!" I shouted.

"Mi-chan!"

"V! What are you doing here!?" Of all reactions, of course Quinn was angry with me.

"She's here to take your place," said Mello, cutting across before I could get a word in. He smirked. "We have some catching up to do, _Mi-chan._ "

"Call me that again and I'll cut out your tongue so you can never enjoy your first kiss."

That was the wrong thing to say. He slipped a bar of chocolate from his back pocket and snapped off a piece. In amongst the harsh cracking of the chocolate as he crunched it between his teeth, he barked, "Matt! Get the girl!"

There was a heavy sigh from behind me and the sound of what could have been a phone being closed. Another boy came into view, this one with brown hair, and eyes covered with a pair of goggles. He was playing with a lighter in one hand and holding a device in the other. It was slightly too large for him to have a comfortable grip.

He glared at Mello as he passed, every movement speaking of grudging obedience. Knowing Mello, the blonde had most likely threatened his – friend, partner, sidekick? – beforehand with dire consequences should his authority be underminded in any way. The image almost put a smile on my face. It was like a boy trying to instate himself as the unwanted leader of a friend group.

Mello leered at me, pulling a knife out of yet another pocket, and all feelings of amusement vanished.

"Mello, if you dare hurt her –" I began, cut off by Sayu shrieking. Mello left my field of vision and I was given an unfettered view of Matt dragging Sayu out of the cage. Quinn lunged at him and both boys went down, Sayu rolling to the side. There was a scuffle, a muffled yelp, and then Matt had the device held against Quinn's chest and it was what I had hoped it wasn't.

It emitted a sound like rapid fire clicking. Quinn jerked spasmodically, falling off Matt to twitch on the ground. My mouth hung open as I stared at my younger brother convulse as a result of being tasered. Matt stood, groaning, and quickly caught Sayu who'd been trying to escape on her hands and knees. He wrapped an arm around her waist, hauled her upright, and frogmarched her to a few feet in front of me. Mello reappeared with a chair. Both of them shoved the poor girl down, tying her with the same zipties they'd used on me. She bit her lip when the plastic bit into her skin.

"Minerva," she whispered, eyes as wide and scared as a doe's. I tried to find words of comfort to say but none came. Matt had tasered Quinn. What would they do to her?

"Mello, let her go," I said, forcing 'big sister' superiority into my voice. "She's has nothing to do with this. You said you would send her and Quinn back it I came to you."

Mello laughed, back to me, playing with his knife. It was a butterfly knife, one he could flick open and closed with mesmerizingly quick movements. Sayu's eyes followed the knife's blade as it appeared and disappeared from view. Tears began to trickle down her face.

"I need to send a message back to Light Yagami first. What better way than using his sister?" said Mello idly.

"Mello! You should know better than anyone that blood family doesn't mean anything." He turned to me then, and anger lined his mouth.

He looked at Matt. "Gag her."

His friend, who was taller and broader, followed his order with naught but another sigh. I let him gag me using a rolled piece of fabric tied at the back of my head without protest. It would only make Mello feel more self-important to see me struggle. He sneered and turned away again, his knife coming up to brush through Sayu's hair. The blade was sharp. Soft brown tresses fluttered to the floor. She began to whimper.

"Did you know, Sayu Yagami, that your brother is a murderer?" Mello's voice was a taunting whisper. He'd obviously been watching too many action movies yet it had a palpable affect on Sayu. She stilled, gaze locking on him. Her breath came out in short gasps.

"What?" The word quavered in the air.

Mello nodded. He was too close to her. I wanted to grab him by that perfect hair and toss him to the ground. Maybe grab Matt's taser while I was at it.

Speaking of Matt, he was dragging Quinn back into the cage. My brother's head lolled on his shoulders. Old blood dyed the hair on his crown. Matt slammed the cage door shut, latched it, and walked past me once more, out of sight.

Mello grabbed Sayu's chin, leaning in closer. A sadistic smile lit up his face. "Your brother is _Kira_ ," he whispered. A great gasp of breath left Sayu like she'd been hit in the chest. "He killed all those people without a care. He's the most dangerous criminal the world has ever seen."

"You're lying," said Sayu. She didn't looked surprised. Her expression told of a fear being confirmed. Mello smirked, straightening.

"We'll see," he said. "If I die of a heart attack, he's Kira. If nothing, then you've got a worthless brother. Either way you'll know he never loved you."

Was Mello really willing to sacrifice himself to prove L's theory about Light? A part of me doubted it. What would be the point of succeeding where L had failed if he couldn't gloat to Near about it afterwards? He must be laying this out for L, waiting to see what the master detective would make of Light's reaction to the scenario. With both Quinn and Sayu convinced of Light's culpability, there would be little to dissuade L of believing his theory now.

Sayu was hunched over in her restraints, her shoulders shaking. I wanted to cry out to her, reassure her that Light loved her like a brother should, but that would be a lie. We shared a look and in it she read every truth I had hidden. She closed her eyes and started to sob. My heart cracked.

There was a flutter of movement from the ceiling and Rem came diving down. She took Mello's place when he left the girl and went to wherever Matt was. Two skeletal wings of white encircled her in a protective shield, though the teenager couldn't feel it. I nodded to her in gratitude.

In the stillness of the warehouse, with only the Sayu's crying and the waves outside to drown out my breathing, jet lag caught up on me. If I was right and this was L.A., there was a seventeen hour time difference between it and Tokyo. The unconsciousness during the plane ride over did nothing for my internal clock and I struggled for against it until I was overcome. Sleep beckoned. I only had one last chance to look at Quinn's blonde head through the slats of the cage when full darkness came.

* * *

I slept fitfully, dreaming of fire and pain and Quinn and Sayu seizing on a cold concrete floor. Rem's yellow eyes, replaced with Ryuk's black, then Light's red. The three colours spun in a kaleidoscope, so dizzying I was awoken by a churning stomach. Bile threatened to rise in my throat. I forced it down, banishing the sight of the fire from my mind.

The gag was still in place, pressing hard into my tongue and soaked with saliva though the rest of my mouth felt dry. My neck protested angrily when I moved. My entire body ached from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position for the third time in a week; my arms and legs had falled asleep, uncomfortable prickling dancing along the nerves to remind me they were still there, even I couldn't use them. I groaned and took stock of my surroundings.

All thought of pain vanished and was replaced with panic.

The cage was empty, Sayu's chair nowhere to be seen. The artificial light from halogen lamps hanging from chains told me nothing about the time. It could have been midnight or midday and there would be no difference. No telling when Sayu and Quinn were taken. Hopefully they were on a plane, flying to Tokyo and the closest place to safety they could get.

Damn Mello. It was just like him to get rid of them before I could say goodbye. All in the name of creating as much chaos in his wake as possible.

"'Bout time you woke up." Matt came into my line of sight, goggles on his forehead and the zippo in his fingers again. He flicked it open and closed, occasionally lighting it. He would grow into a good looking boy, but right now he had a haggard look to him of experience beyond his years.

With the gag there was nothing I could say. A glare was my only way of communicating. Eventually he broke the silence. "Your brother and the girl are on their way home. With them are recordings of their reactions to being told Light is Kira." He flicked the zippo closed and placed it in his vest pocket. "Neither of them seemed surprised."

I raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the gag. He untied it.

"Can you get me the painting gear out of my bag?" I asked cordially. Now he raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"So I can paint." He bristled at the unspoken ' _duh_.'

"Not happening."

"Why not?"

"Mello said only to let you move if you needed the bathroom."

"And you listen to every word he says?" Matt shrugged. I rolled my eyes. "Then can I at least go to the bathroom?" He eyed me warily. "Don't worry your head, kid. I'm not going to fight you. Knowing Mello, he's got some asinine contingency that would get me badly hurt. I know how desperate he can be."

Barely eased by my words, Matt nonetheless cut me free and escorted me to a small wooden door opposite the corrugated iron entrance. He had to support me the every step. Blood flowed into my limbs and they woke up with a sensation of being stabbed with hundreds of needles.

On the other side of the door was a single toilet and sink. No shower. Matt and Mello were keeping that luxury to themselves. Matt waited outside the door.

I was washing my hands when, without warning, I was hit by blistering pain in my back. Gasping, I managed braced myself on the sink before my head hit hard ceramic. The agony was more like being burned than knifed, eclipsing every other feeling. My hands shook so hard I could barely keep a hold of the sink.

 _Please stop,_ I begged. _Please. Not now. I can't afford to fall apart here._

Slowly, oh so slowly, the episode passed and I was able to stand without support. In my mind's eye the world appeared bathed in the orange glow of firelight that wouldn't go away. I fumbled with the lock and stumbled out of the small space. Matt caught me by the shoulder.

"You really need to get me something to paint with," I muttered. "You're not going to like what happens otherwise." The madness that had always been coiled under my skin, that had been growing so much stronger lately, was like a poison in my veins. The thousands of miles from Quinn and Sayu and, dare I say it, _Light_ , had made it writhe. There wasn't much I could do to stop it anymore. Painting was my last option. I dreaded how bad it would be if – _when_ – I succumbed and Quinn wasn't there to soothe the worst of it with music. The thought made my hairs crawl.

It had been nine years since Quinn started playing for me. Now he was gone and it was like my early childhood all over again. Only much, _much_ worse.

"What's going to happen?" asked Matt as he helped me back into the chair. I clung to his sleeve, shuddering.

Stupid, thoughtless Minerva. Why on earth did I let Quinn walk out that rooftop door?

It was almost impossible to speak. When I did, it was no more than a breath. "I might die."

Matt froze, bent over. The zipties fell from his hand. "What the heck are you on about?"

"Please." I reached forwards, grabbing at his vest. All pride was gone now. I could hear the flames, see the shadows dancing on the walls. " _Please_. Get me something to paint with now!"

Matt was at a loss for words. Fear was written on his face. It was then I remembered he wasn't Quinn, who understood. Matt was only an ignorant young boy stuck with a hysterical older girl gibbering about death and paint. I began to hyperventilate. Quinn, Quinn, Quinn. I needed him. I didn't want to fall into the rabbit hole again. A newly lit furnace raged at the bottom. Despair shot through my heart like a bullet and I fell to my knees, causing the chair to skitter across the concrete.

Another door behind me banged open. The sound echoed around the warehouse and deep into my skull, making me curl up on the floor. Matt crouched by my head and placed his hand on my shoulder again.

"Mello –"

"– Their plane crashed," Mello interrupted. All the breath in my lungs froze.

"What?" said Matt.

"The girl and boy. Their plane crashed into the North Pacific this morning."

* * *

TOWRTA:

Next: quinn and v's childhood, and light and l's struggle to save them.


	20. Bloody Mary

Chapter Nineteen

Insanity (noun) – Law Definition

 _Mental illness of such a severe nature that a person cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, cannot conduct his/her affairs due to psychosis, or is subject to uncontrollable impulsive behaviour._

Synonym: _madness_

* * *

These accounts come from Watari and L.

* * *

 _Quillsh Wammy's Account_

 _31_ _st_ _October, 1986_

 _A babe, younger than eighteen months, appeared on the doorstep of the Montreau Orphanage in Paris. The matron, Madame De la Mare, took her in. Her hair was singed, her clothing burnt, but other than that she was healthy. Apart from the deadness of her eyes._

 _The orphanage was not accustomed to caring for such young children. Their charges were usually paid for and between three and sixteen. This girl was a special case. Madame De la Mare could not refuse a child who already looked as though the world had hurt her beyond repair._

* * *

When we realised Valerie had disappeared, Light immediately went to the roof. I wished I had my own place to hide while I tried to stop myself from shaking in rage.

Valerie had given herself over to Mello, my impulsive, dangerous protégé, for her brother and Sayu. While not unexpected, Watari's involvement was like a knife to the heart.

He made it up to me by not saying a word when I threw the cake on the table at the apartment window. It hit the ground with a muted squelch. I gave him not one piece of attention as he cleaned it up. Valerie was gone and I had to get her back. I went downstairs to the task force and gave them their new task.

An hour later, Light reentered the room, sat at my side at the large bank of computers, and got to work hacking the survelliance footage to follow the car from the train station. Matsuda protested they had already done so. The young man ignored him. Light needed to be in control at that moment. He had to find Valerie's whereabouts personally, as a matter of pride.

It was the same feeling within me and I felt like racing him to find her first. Sense ruled that as pointless. Instead I focused on Mello, his personality, his thought patterns, his way of life. His relationship with Near and Quinn and Valerie and the newer boy to Wammy House; Matt. The two had run away at the start of the year and joined a gang in South London. Then France and then the Italian mafia before travelling across the Pacific to America's West Coast.

Then nothing. Mello had somehow found a way to fall off the grid in March and I had not paid attention, too wrapped up in Valerie and Light and Kira. I'd monopolised Wammy's time too, ensuring he wouldn't know that Mello was gone as well.

At least it told me one thing. Mello would not put the effort into vanishing if he didn't intend to stay.

"Check for flights to America," I said to Light. He gave no acknowledgement.

When I glanced over a minute later he was searching through flight plans to Los Angeles and New York City.

* * *

 _Quillsh Wammy's Account_

 _August, 1989_

 _The girl was just past four when her dreadful beginning took their toll. She would sit for hours, staring in fear at the world around her without a word. She shook like a feather a gale._

 _The staff could not help her. If she was touched she became violent, thrashing like a mad thing until sedation or strapping was needed. Sedation on a four-year-old left a poor taste in the mouth of Madame De la Mare, so often cuffs attached to her cot were used. There were no straightjackets made for so young a person._

 _At night she screamed. The other children awoke too and cried in fear. The orphanage was a madhouse for nights on end. Madame De la Mare was forced to place the girl in a room on the fifth floor where heating was seldom used and many did not venture. It was the attic level, decrepit and a warren of small rooms that had once been the servants' quarters prior to the staff house being built. Every sharp edge and point was covered. She ate food from trays brought by the maids instead of in the dining room with the other children. Like a princess in a tower, she was locked away. Only her cries at night reminded the other children she existed. She was named V after the floor she lived on._

 _Two weeks into V's imprisonment, a doctor was brought in on the account of a grocer's boy who had heard her screams. He demanded to see her and upon examining the girl, he ruled her only safe in an asylum. Madame De la Mare would not stand for it and called me. I was the benefactor of the orphanage at the time and had always shared a close friendship with Madame De la Mare. It was a surprise to learn about the child she'd taken into her care and that she'd kept it a secret from me for many a year._

 _I intervened and convinced the doctor that an asylum was hardly the place for a four-year-old girl. He eventually acquiesced on the stipulation that he was allowed to visit her weekly. I forced Madame De la Mare to accept._

 _On the doctor's orders, V was allowed to wander the orphanage on Sundays, while the other children went to church. It was one of the few days I had found time to visit her, between searching through other orphanages for likely L-successors, and helping L himself become the detective I knew he could be. He was turning ten in a few months._

 _November twelfth was one of her few lucid days. Her eyes were as dull as usual, deadened by the pain she told me haunted her nightmares and hallucinations. Seldom she spoke of them. In the time we'd spent together, I gathered that fire played a heavy part. The doctor suggested it was a result of her mind twisting a traumatic experience from when she was very young._

 _"_ _Mr. Wammy," she said as we walked through the hallways of the Montreau Orphanage. She was staring up at the large protraits of the orphanage's previous matrons and benefactors. They were cold, unsmiling protraits, done in dark oils with eyes that glared at the children who dared enter the fourth floor. Not many of the them did._

 _"_ _Yes, Miss V?"_

 _"_ _Why do people make sad pictures like those?"_

 _I mulled over the question, unsure of how to answer. Portraiture had never been my strong suit. Fortunately, she didn't need my reply._

 _"_ _I'm going to make happy pictures. Ones with people who smile." She nodded to herself. A small spark had alighted in her eye. "Everyone is always so sad when they see me. I want to make them happy."_

 _After breakfast with Earl Grey tea and scones, I sent one of the maids to purchase the best art supplies money could buy and a series of books on the subject, one edition for every birthday as she grew._

* * *

Mello knew how to cover his tracks, that was certain. Valerie had left over twenty-four hours ago, would certainly be in Mello's grasp by now, and we were only marginally closer to finding her than before. The survelliance route was a dead-end. He had managed to loop the footage in the airport and none of the flights reported an unexpected number of passengers. It was cleverly done. Months of planning had been done for this day.

Light was getting progressively more anxious with every passing hour. With Mello's uncharacteristic silence there was little we could do. Light spent his time hacking into every airport server between here and New York City, trying to find any mention of a tall girl with brown hair, most likely unconscious. There was nothing. Watari suspected Matt, who had always shown an aptitude for electronics, was behind it.

Kira only killed three people in the days after Valerie's disappearance.

* * *

 _Quillsh Wammy's Account_

 _23_ _rd_ _December, 1990_

 _Days before Christmas, the Montreau Orphanage took in their youngest ward yet. A boy only a few months old. The mother was sobbing as she laid the child in Madame De la Mare's arms and ran off into the night. She left him with only a name: Quirinus. The god with two faces. The god of beginnings and endings. Madame De la Mare thought it did not suit him. Quirinus became Quinn, since the other children found it too hard to pronounce his full name. Quinn was a better fit by far, the matron told me._

 _That day was a Sunday and as such V was with me when they brought the boy in. Together we saw him being taken to the nursery. V watched him go, curious for the first time I had seen._

 _Two days later V was allowed out of the fifth floor for Christmas. As presents she received the next art book from me and a new brush from Madame De la Mare. Trinette, one of the maids, bought her red paint._

 _Madame De la Mare later told me how V had disappeared that afternoon while the children were playing around the Christmas tree. There was a building-wide panic until they found her in the nursery. Trinette was the first to laugh._

 _V had set up her easel beside Quinn's cot and was painstakingly painting him, using her new red. Her brow was furrowed, her shoulders set as she used only red, with black and white for differing shades._

 _Trinette volunteered to stay with the two children. From what I was told later, the first painting of Quinn was the best V had done since starting her hobby. Our new Sunday routine was always punctuated with an afternoon of depicting the baby Quinn in some way, whether in colour or pencil. Her nightmares lessened and when she became catatonic it would last only a day at most. When she was with Quinn, it was as though all the hallucinated pain and fire vanished._

 _Quinn's first word, on the first of April, 1991, was 'V.'_

* * *

Six days into the hunt for Valerie – we had found nothing, _nothing,_ other than knowing they had to be in America but in a country that large, where could we start? – a letter finally came, left at the police headquarters. It was addressed to the task force.

Inside was a newspaper cutting of a flight that had crashed two days earlier. The article included a list of those who had lost their lives in the crash. Someone had added two more at the end of the list.

 _Quinn Catearro_

 _Sayu Yagami_

My first thought was Kira _._

Then Light Yagami stood up so fast his chair crashed to the ground. The entire task force jumped at the sound. He looked almost wild, shoulders shuddering with every breath, fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists. Watari, I noted, was in a similar state of disquiet, though much less expressively.

"Light-san?" said Matsuda nervously, toying with the photo that had slipped out of the envelope. Light held out his hand wordlessly. Matsuda handed over the photo, worry lining his young face.

Light took one look at the photo and then threw it at me. He stormed out of the room, heading for the roof.

The photo fell to the floor like a dying butterfly. It landed face-up.

It showed Valerie kneeling in the middle of a warehouse, mouth open wide in a scream that reverberated in my soul.

* * *

 _Quillsh Wammy's Account_

 _8_ _th_ _April, 1995_

 _V's worst fit hit in the middle of Spring. At the age of nine, she was allowed more time to roam the grounds with Quinn, who had attached himself to her side. Following in the artistic footsteps of his surrogate sister, he found solace from the world in music, playing the piano with almost transcendental ability. It was a common sight to find V and her paints in the music room with Quinn while Trinette patched clothing for the other wards of the orphanage._

 _We discovered too late that there was a downside to her painting. It was not a cure, merely a way to hold off the demons of her mind for as long as possible._

 _On the eighth, she was hit with her worst case of psychosis. It lasted fifty-three hours and in that time she would not eat or sleep. Anyone who attempted to care for her was attacked. The other wards were taken out of the orphanage for a trip to the seaside in one of my country houses. Quinn was the only one who stayed back. He refused to leave his sister._

 _Madame De la Mare and I had perhaps not given him enough credit. While we called for doctors and tried to force food into her throat, the young boy demanded she be brought to the music room. Young Trinette was his support. With no other ideas, myself and two orderlies called in from the nearby hospital carried her to the room and strapped her to a cot that was brought down._

 _I cannot forget what Quinn did in that moment. At the age of four he showed more compassion and mental strength than any man or woman I have met since. He approached his sister and laid a steady hand on her head. She hissed and screeched for him to get away and yet, with determined kindness, he stroked her hair. He whispered something to her that I did not hear. A smile gracing his features, he went to the old pianoforte in the corner of the room._

 _He began to play and, to all of our monumental surprise and delight, she stopped writhing like a girl possessed. She relaxed into the bed and began to sob, crying for her mother. Trinette held her hand._

 _"_ _It's hurts," she cried. "Make it stop hurting." Trinette unstrapped the girl and held her, whispering "Valeria, my dearest Valeria," while Quinn played a simple, charming lullaby of his own creation. I have not seen anything to equal the love and affection of those two in my days since then. In my darkest moments I still call that memory to mind as a reminder than humanity is not always so corrupt._

 _Three days later, both of the children were on their way to Wammy House. I implored Trinette to work for me. She insisted her place was in Montreau._

 _I introduced the two to BB and L. L was intrigued, having heard stories of V from me. BB was also curious. I see now his curiosity was a result of his obsession with all things L was interested in. At the time I only hoped they would be the family she'd never had._

 _I named her Valerie, hoping she would remember Trinette's kindness. Unfortunately, her wish to forget the traumas of the orphanage extended to blocking out nearly everything else as well. That included our Sunday breakfasts and Trinette and the sullen protraits that had inspired her to paint. Quinn became her entire world and her muse. Her reliance on the boy was worrying to me for as long as I could spare time to think of her. My time spent training L took every part of the day. At fifteen, he hardly slept and was already solving crimes that had the police world baffled._

 _With L occupying my attention I could not spare the time to check up on my other wards. To make up for this I had Roger Ruvie, the Wammy Orphanage manager, send me reports on them. His reports never included Mello's bullying or BB's stalking. I had not asked to know about the private life of the children under my care, only their progress._

* * *

 _To Miss Valerie_

 _I find myself regretting how blind I had been back then. My inability to see past my nose condemmed Valerie and Quinn to a less than a half life of misery. The fault of BB's actions and, indeed, Quinn's unfortunate passing, lie solely on my shoulders._

 _Miss Valerie, you have shown the incredible ability to forgive numerous times already. I ask that you can find it within yourself to extend the same to me._

 _You have my sincerest apologies._

* * *

Light was frantic. For a person who was usually so obsessive over his appearance, he paid little thought to it now. He spent an hour at a time pacing the room, muttering to himself. At times I thought he was in conversation with a phantom. The rest of the task force had caught his desperation even though they didn't know Valerie personally. Two more days passed. I contacted my numerous acquaintances (men and women I hadn't reported to the authorities in return for their loyalty and help) throughout America, Italy and France to see if anyone knew where Mello and Matt were. The rest of the task force were attempting to track down the warehouse through the police and satellite imagery. Frustratingly, the photo showed precious little in the way of clues.

We were at our breaking point. Dead ends, false leads, looped surveillance footage. All of it closed in upon us. We were fighting against a very real clock. Watari had told me of Valerie's episodes as a child. How they would be in the wake of Quinn's death . . . the idea did not bear contemplation. Worse still, I _knew_ Mello. I _knew_ Valerie. Solving this case went beyond professional interest and duty. I was emotionally invested. If we did not find her soon, I might snap.

Day nine signalled a turn around. I had managed two hours of near-useless sleep and arrived in the main room to find Light hunched in his chair, muttering to himself once more. This time he did not hide his words. He didn't realise I was there.

"I know, I _know_ , alright? But I _can't_ let you." He paused, as if in conversation with someone I could not see. There was no phone in sight. He groaned, fingers wound painfully tight into lifeless bronze hair. "I know that," he said sullenly, spitting the words. Another pause. He softened, shoulders losing their strain. "I know that. Fine. Go. Find her."

Silence reigned for a long time. Then, so soft I almost missed it: "Damn you, Minerva. You will be the end of me. I know it."

I decided to make my presence known. With a small cough, I entered the room, saying, "Good morning, Light-kun. How was your sleep?"

Light knew full well that I was aware he hadn't slept a wink. His gaze was shrewd, itching to know how much I'd heard. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction and remained silent until the rest of the task force filed in within the hour, yawning and drinking from oversized coffee cups.

Three hours into another day of fruitless calls, Light missed a letter on his keyboard. It was the first time I'd ever seen it happen. His eyes became glazed. Suddenly he switched over to the satellite mapping programme the task force had been using and typed in an address. The image of docks falling into disrepair filled the screen. He zeroed in on a specific warehouse. For a minute he just stared at the building's roof.

Then, "Ryuzaki."

"Yes, Light-kun?"

"I know where she is."

All activity ground to a halt. Matsuda's head snapped up and he gasped in delight. "How did you find her?" he asked, jumping up from his seat on the couch to peer over Light's shoulder. Aizawa joined him next, and Mogi and Ukita. Ide remained where he was, seated on my other side at the computer bank. Watari was downstairs in the control room.

"How do you know?" asked Aizawa suspiciously. They all knew of my assertion that Light Yagami was Kira.

Light ignored the others and turned to me. "Ryuzaki, I promise you she's in there."

"I must repeat Aizawa's question, Light-kun. How do you know that?"

Light's mouth twisted. He was fighting some internal battle. For a fascinating moment his emotions were written on his face and I could see everything. In amongst the frustration I found a wealth of guilt that was all the confirmation I needed of his hidden self. The triumph of the moment was hollow. Somewhere in the world, Valerie was screaming, helpless. Knowing the girl – who, for whatever reason, had sat by my side while I solved cases, and listened to me rant about justice for as long as I liked – was going through such pain put everything else in perspective.

Kira could wait. Valerie needed me. I refused to fail her again.

I flipped open my phone and pressed the 2 key. Watari picked up on the first ring.

"Ryuzaki," he said in greeting.

"Ready the jet, Watari." The rest of the task force started talking at once, incredulous. I only had eyes for Light. The tangled flurry of emotion had disappeared. In its place was tentative, fragile hope.

* * *

TOWRTA: Wassup.

Turns out I've been spelling 'Wammy' wrong the entire time. Well, eventually I'll re-edit these chapters and fix all of that but for now, you guys will just have to deal with the spelling change. Seriously, what sort of name is Quillsh Wammy anyway? (An exciting, exotic one, that's what.)

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, I'd love to hear your thoughts (especially for the last chapter too, ehehe). By the way, only one more chapter and an epilogue to go! Woo!

Next time: the endgame

Yours Truly and God bless

TOWRTA


	21. Endgame

Chapter Twenty

 _"_ _The girl and boy. Their plane crashed into the North Pacific this morning."_

Have you ever known true loss? Like a piece of your heart has been stolen from you and you know it won't return? I remember Mikoto waxing poetic about the tragedy of her pet cat dying during summer. The girl had almost started weeping. She described the animal licking her cheeks whenever she cried because of the salt in her tears. Nozomi had patted her back, said the right consoling words, and given her a hug. She said that having good memories of the cat was the most important thing.

Good memories.

Was Quinn thinking of our good memories when he died? Or was he dwelling on the secret I had kept from him for so long?

Whatever had been going through his mind in the moments before that plane crashed into the ocean, it didn't matter now. His forgiveness was forever out of reach. _He_ was forever out of reach. What a cruel joke. Just when it seemed nothing could get worse, the universe decided to throw a curve ball. I'd fumbled the catch. We'd lost the game. It was my fault.

"Let's see what Kira does now his sister's dead," said Mello, too much relish in his voice.

The crushing guilt on my shoulders disappeared for a second and I saw the truth.

It wasn't me who'd lost us the game. It was the one who threw the ball. It was who hit the ball. I was the casualty caught up in their uncaring sport and dragged Sayu and Quinn down with me.

Kira.

Mello.

The guilt boiled in the back of my mind like an infection but it was nothing compared to the sudden tsunami of rage. With a snarl, I shoved Matt to the side. He fell to the ground with a yelp, head colliding with the concrete. Mello took a step back, confusion and fright in his eyes.

"You did this," I spat at him. He cocked his head to the side.

"What? Made their plane fall out of the sky? What am I, God?"

"If you hadn't kidnapped them, they wouldn't have died in the first place!" Screaming, I lunged for him. He was no match. We hit concrete hard, all the air knocked from Mello's lungs. As he gasped I took hold of his head and held it off the ground; ready to slam it down.

"Valerie," he said, "It wasn't me who killed them! It was an accident!"

"An accident that wouldn't have happened if you left them alone!" Mello was fumbling for his pocket. I crushed his wrists under my knees. The boy winced in pain.

A cold, hard object was pressed against my temple. _Click._ Matt was holding a gun.

"Let go of him," he commanded. The gun was shaking in his hand. I grinned and he saw something in the smile that made him gulp.

"Kill me and Kira will murder both of you." The idea wasn't as horrifying as it might have been, compared to the image of Sayu and Quinn screaming, holding hands, strapped into seats with no escape. The picture was so vivid I could taste the smoke, hear the flames, see Sayu's eyes dilate to almost black as she held onto my brother.

"He doesn't have our names." Mello attempted a sneer.

"It can find them." My hands were shaking and I swore my back was beginning to burn.

"It?" Matt repeated.

"You wouldn't let him," said Mello softly. His eyes were still wide. "You know he's a monster. Don't you want to stop him? _He's_ the real reason your brother and sister are dead."

"Shut up," I hissed, twitching to relieve the sensation of sizzling skin. It was spreading up my shoulders and over my hips. My fingers were curling into talons, the nails scraping Mello's scalp. He winced again and glared. I found I couldn't pay him an ounce of attention anymore; the thought of the plane exploding had manifested itself in front of me. It roared in my ears. Mello's mouth moved but I couldn't hear a word. For a second I saw Quinn, the blonde hair shortening and brightening, the eyes changing from brown to blue. There was still blood on his crown. I shouted and wrenched myself away. Blink. Mello returned, rubbing his head in pain.

"Tie her up," said Mello as he pulled himself to his feet.

Hands roughly grabbed my arms and dragged me away.

Seconds before everything gave way I managed to spit at Mello. It landed on his perfect leather shoe.

* * *

The world was on fire again. It licked the walls, burned the soles of my feet, singed my hair. The lights swung on their chains. Burning balls that dripped flames and ash. A river of heat filled the old boat tracks and smoke curled into the air. Choking. Cloying. It tasted of death.

My shoulder was touched again. I lashed out, using the last dregs of strength to slam an elbow into their stomach. The attacker grunted and released their hold. That was the last time I could fight them off. I was losing the ability to move with every inhalation of smoke. It felt as though tar was coating my lungs.

How long had this been going on? Days? Weeks? It felt like an eternity. Life before the flames was nothing but a distant memory, a bright speck I couldn't grasp no matter how hard I ran. It stayed permanently out of reach behind a wall of brilliant red and orange.

"Help me," I pleaded to anyone who was listening. "Help me, please!'

Occasionally a deep, female voice would reply. Her words were always lost in the roar of the flames.

* * *

At times it felt as though a scalpel was being drawn across my back. At others, a sharp nail tearing into my thigh. The worst moments was when _he_ appeared. A man bent over me, blood dripping from his teeth as he smiled.

"Pretty lass," he rasped. He stretched out a hand. I always screamed, high-pitched and terrified, and he disappeared. His constant, invisible presence was a heavy weight on my shoulders, a phantom hiding in the shadows.

* * *

They gagged me. They used a cloth that pulled my lips away from my teeth and scratched the sides of my mouth. Finding new strength, I thrashed, clawing and screaming through the material. They cursed and retreated back into the flames to become no more than hazy silhouettes wreathed in smoke. I was left alone once more, unable to cry aloud for help.

 _Get me out of here. Save me._

* * *

It was in the midst of another yellow-eyed nightmare that a shaft of light broke through the orange haze. The harsh sound of a door slamming against concrete jarred me into semi-awareness. Beyond the smoke I could make out figures filing into this hell I was trapped in.

 _Help,_ I thought. _I'm over here._

Another scalpel-gash opened up my back and I moaned, all thought of the figures disappearing. This new cut was deep. It felt as though it had nicked my spinal cord, sending spasms of agony along my arms and legs. My jaw clenched so tightly I could almost hear my teeth cracking. Surely the ending was near. This sort of pain was not made to be borne.

"Light-kun!"

The name was like a gunshot. Suddenly the fire was gone, the pain vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. My lungs cleared of soot and I could taste the stale saliva soaking the gag.

Light. _Light._ He was here. How was he _here_?

I blinked and the figures resolved themselves into people. The angle was all wrong. They were sideways, hanging off a wall.

No, not a wall. I was lying on the ground. Cold concrete leeched warmth from my frozen limbs. My head ached like it had been bashed with a rock. The rest of my body fared no better.

A bright streak of copper caught my eye. There, near the doors, was Light. He appeared to be grappling with someone. Blonde bob. Mello.

Light easily gained the upper hand and brutally slammed his fist into Mello's jaw. The boy crashed to the ground, lifeless as a ragdoll. Light bent down and pulled an object from Mello's limp hand. He tossed it to one side. It caught the light as it spun through the air. A revolver.

"Light-kun," was repeated. L was here too. Hunched over and still in the same white shirt and blue jeans, he was walking towards me. And behind him hovered two creatures, one white, the other black. At once I knew who to thank for bringing L and Light to me.

"Minerva!" Light had spotted me and he ran forwards. I flinched, trying in vain to scrabble away. His heels scraped the floor as he halted. "Minerva?"

"Valerie," said L. He was kneeling at my side. Pity and concern filled his eyes. How must I have looked to provoke something like that in the stoic detective? With careful fingers, L untied the gag and pulled it away.

Trying to talk brought on a coughing fit I couldn't stop and the corners of the warehouse began to flicker again. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, into my mouth, dripping off my chin. L gathered me into his arms without a word.

"Ryuzaki," said Light. "Allow me –"

"I think not, Light-kun," said L. He held me closer to him and I buried my face in his neck, tears soaking the collar of his shirt.

Relief came first.

Then gratefulness.

Bitterness.

Anguish.

 _Guilt._

"They're dead," I whispered, strands of Ryuzaki's hair brushing my lips. "Mello killed them."

L stiffened before holding even tighter. "No. It was a freak accident. Don't let your judgment be –"

"I didn't even get to say goodbye. I was _asleep_. And Quinn still. . ." I couldn't bring myself to say it. 'Quinn still hated me.' He had died and taken the last chance of my being forgiven for what I did with him.

"Quinn loved you, Minerva," Light said softly.

Those words, from _him_ no less, flipped a switch within me I didn't even know I had. The flames disappeared. Coldness swept through in their place.

Homicide is not a common urge for me, but upon looking up and seeing his face, his haggard, worried face (as though he had the capability to even _feel_ worry anymore – that would require him to be in touch with his humanity), every inhibition I had about murder seemed to disappear. In _his_ case I found myself justifying it.

"Why?" I said, the compassion within my heart desperately searching for one last chance to let him off the hook. "Why did you do it? Why did you pick it up and take it home? Why did you keep writing?"

He knew what I was asking before the words came out of my mouth. Light wavered openly, shifting between guilt and calculation, and then _It_ was there.

"Because I was bored," it said calmly. "Bored of being bored."

Compassion handed over the reins to Rage.

"Rem." The Shinigami stood to attention. "There should be a lighter on Matt somewhere, wherever he is. Can you get it?" She went out of sight just as L was drawing his arms away from my waist. "Help me stand," I told him. He did so while glancing between Kira and I. He wasn't as confused as I thought he would be, considering I'd been talking to someone clearly not in the room to his eyes. Kira was the one frowning.

"Ryuk?"

"Yeah?"

"Get Light's Death Note for me, would you?" Kira jumped as though it had been electrocuted.

"Sure," said Ryuk. He glided over to Kira. The murderer walked backwards, hands raised to fend off the creature.

"Ryuk," it said. Its voice was smooth as it became when it was trying to manipulate someone. "You know what she's going to do. Remember your promise to me when we first met?"

Ryuk chuckled. "Yeah, I remember." Faster than a human, he reached around Kira and snatched the notebook out from the waistband of its jeans. "I just like Minerva more than you."

That brought an unlikely smile to my face. "Thanks, Ryuk. Is that all the pieces he has?"

"Yup," said Ryuk as he tossed the Death Note over. Kira jumped forward. Ryuk clotheslined it in the neck and the bronze-haired monster hit the concrete floor with a thud.

I considered passing the Death Note to L so he could see Ryuk. His disturbed expression told me that may not be a good idea right at this minute.

"I'll explain later," I murmured to him.

"It will be a long explanation, Valerie," he replied. I nodded to him and he stepped back.

"Here, Minerva-san." Rem had returned with the zippo lighter in hand. She passed it to me and flapped over to Ryuk. The Shinigami flanked Kira, looming above it in case it should try to attack.

On unsteady legs, I took a step forwards. Kira had scrambled to its feet and now watched warily, feet spread, ready to jump into action if the chance arose.

Closing my eyes, I reached into myself, drawing out all the pain Kira had caused me. The mind games, the manipulation, the way it just _took_ without giving anything in return and felt no remorse or guilt. The crackle of fire started burning in my ears again and this time I embraced them, letting the madness fuel my anger.

When I spoke, my voice dripped poison.

"I want to you to remember this moment, Light, while you're still Kira," I said. "Remember that I am done playing your games. You took away my sanity, my brother, Sayu, Sachiko and Soichiro. Because of you, I can't sleep at night since all my nightmares are of you and that damn Shinigami and my name written in your damned notebook. It's your fault I'm like this! It's your fault my world's been destroyed." I stormed over to Kira, grabbing its collar. I wanted it to feel my anger, my hatred, because in that moment I realised that I loathed what Light had become. This twisted monster that had taken everything I loved. There was no changing him now. His only redemption would be through destruction.

"I'm going to burn your Death Note. I will give you a year, one year, to live without your memories. Enjoy it while it lasts, Light Yagami. Because then I'm getting you your memories back and if you turn back into this thing . . ." I yanked it even closer so it could feel my breath on its lips. I could feel its helplessness. "If you become Kira again," I whispered, "I will personally drive a knife through your skull." Kira almost fell when I released it, stumbling back and running into Ryuk. The Shinigami became intangible and laughed when the owner of his Death Note hit the ground hard.

Righteous anger flowing through my veins, I flicked open the zippo and lit it with a click. The flame was mesmerising. So much power and destruction all in one little flicker of heat and light. This was what had robbed me of my parents, destroyed my family, ravaged my mind for years.

Now I would use its power to take away Kira's.

"Wait, Minerva, don't!" Kira lunged just as I set the book alight. With a frantic swipe, it threw smacked the book from my hands and sent it skittering across the floor. The corner smoldered and the tiny flame flickered out. We locked eyes for a second.

I ran for the notebook. Kira grabbed my hair and yanked me back. Using the momentum I pushed it to the ground, elbowing it in the chest when we fell. All the air left its lungs in a wheeze more suited to an old man than a young murderer.

"Valerie!" L shouted. Footsteps pounded on the concrete.

"No! Don't interfere," I said as I scrambled to my feet. L stumbled to a halt and glared, fingers twitching as he tried to suppress his urge to attack Kira.

"This is between me and Kira."

L's saw something over my shoulder that caused his eyes to widen. "Valerie!" he cried in warning just as Kira grabbed me around the shoulders. I writhed in its hold. A hand wrapped around my throat. I froze.

"Kira," said L. He watched us warily. His cell phone was in his hand.

"Don't call anyone, L," said Kira. "This is between us."

"Let Valerie go. She is innocent in this."

Kira laughed. It was grating and wild. "Minerva is more involved than you are." He stroked a finger down my cheek. "After all, she was there when I first got the notebook."

"Light," I whispered urgently. "I know you're in there. _Fight this._ "

"You still think I'm an alternate personality." It clicked its tongue. "Sorry to disappoint you, Minerva, but I _am_ Light Yagami."

"You can't be."

"Why not?" It actually sounded curious.

I licked my lips nervously, thinking fast. There had to be a way to get the Death Note and lighter to L so he could burn it in my place. Rem caught my gaze and then saw me toying with the zippo. It took a second for her to understand. Invisible, she flew towards us, hand outstretched.

"You can't be Light because Light wouldn't do this," I explained. "For all his faults, Light has always protected me, invested his time and effort into keeping me safe and close. For you to decide to kill me like this and ruin all that effort means you can't be Light. He doesn't ruin investments."

Kira crooned. "Minerva, you're not an investment. You're a distraction. _Were_ a distraction. I had to keep you under control. Also, you had the added bonus of helping my cover. Just my luck it turns out you _knew_ the detective L." It chuckled.

Its words swam in my mind. This was something I had always thought – I was nothing more than an accessory to offset suspicion.

 _No_. That didn't seem right at all. Sure, there were times when it was obvious Light was associating with me in order to gain some sort of control of me through emotional manipulation, but there were times when he was genuine. Like that kiss in the hospital, his anger of me getting hurt. Those times weren't part of his game. That had been Light caring for me.

Light. Flawed, bored, intelligent Light. Light who saw the world as a game and people as chess pieces. Light who's mistakes mirrored his own ego in magnitude.

Light who had held me close when I slept.

Who consistently came to my aid when I was in trouble.

Who became part of my family.

Light who kissed me.

The more I thought about it, the more I was sure. Kira wasn't Light. They were separate entities, two side of the same coin. It was time to destroy one in order to free the other.

Rem's long fingers scraped my palm and took the zippo lighter at the same time that Ryuk threw the Death Note at L. Immediately the Shinigami flew out the door, out of sight. I thanked him internally. The death god was smarter than he let on.

The detective startled to see the notebook fly through the air towards him and caught it in one hand. The lighter he caught in the other.

"Burn it," I said. Kira tore its gaze from the side of my head and saw L standing there, with the recipe of Kira's downfall in his hands. Its thumb pressed harder into my windpipe as it shouted,

"Ryuk! Where are you!" The murderer was beginning to panic.

"He's gone," I croaked. "You're alone, Kira. Just as I said you would be."

L clicked the lighter.

The Death Note was devoured almost instantly.

L dropped it to the floor just as Kira tried to throw me aside. I tackled him, the two of us tumbling over in a mess of limbs. Kira reared over me, eyes bright red. It grabbed my hair, threaded its fingers through, and lifted my head off the ground in one final act of fury. I watched, waited. Part of me begged Kira to do it. To end my life. For its final murder to end my suffering.

Then Kira slumped forwards, my hair slipping free. It blinked and the redness disappeared from its irises. Before my eyes all the brutality and calculation I had grown used to vanished and was replaced with pure concern, guilt, confusion.

"Minerva?" he said and it was the voice of an eighteen-year-old boy, not a self-made god of cruelty. "Are you okay?" He touched my hairline and winced, fingers brushing along the skin that was sore from his harsh grip. He saw my throat and frowned in puzzlement.

I gazed up at him and couldn't find a single thing to say. Who was this person? Was he the Light I knew or the one from before the notebook, the one I had only known for a day?

It hit me that the Light I knew was most likely nothing but a memory for me now. And with Kira finally gone, there was no one remaining who knew me and what Light and I had been through. I was the one who was alone.

In a moment of déjà vu, L dragged Light off me.

"Ryuzaki!" Light shouted. "What are you doing?"

"Preventing you from ending Valerie's life," said Ryuzaki shortly, fighting as Light struggled in his hold.

"What are you talking about? I wasn't going to kill her!"

"Your actions suggest otherwise." In one smooth move, L flipped Light onto his back and snapped a pair of cuffs on him. Light gaped.

"Stop talking, Light," I said tiredly. Even though Kira was gone and his reign of tyranny at and end, all I wanted was to go home and sleep. Dealing with the aftermath was not my forte.

"Minerva, you know I wouldn't do anything like that," Light said. "When have I ever hurt you?"

That was a little too much to bear. Striding over to him, I planted a knee on his chest and leaned down. My fingers tightened on his shirt collar.

"Kira still killed my family," I said, choking on the words. He stopped speaking. "Get rid of him, L." L spoke into his phone. In seconds Aizawa and Matsuda appeared to haul Light up by the shoulders. His feet dragged across the floor as they took him away. They disappeared into the bright sunlight outside.

L stepped up, placing a hand on my shoulder. "He'll be taken to the House."

"Good. Perhaps being surrounded by other insane people will help him deal with his problems. Like a support group for the immoral."

"Valerie . . ."

I turned away from the pile of ash cooling on the floor.

"V. It's just V." He didn't say a word as I walked past him, not sparing Mello or Matt a second glance. With Rem at my shoulder, I left the warehouse and entered a world without Kira.

* * *

"Misa Misa here! Who's Misa speaking to?"

"Hey, Misa. It's V."

"V?"

"Minerva."

"Oh, Minerva-san! How is Minerva-san? Where are you?"

I laughed for the first time in what felt like years. I'd forgotten Misa's weird propensity to switch between pronouns.

"I've been better. Driving up to Canada."

Someone was talking to Misa on the other end of the line, voice muffled and frustrated. "One sec!" Misa cried. "Misa is talking to a friend!" She huffed. "Sorry. Misa's manager is annoying. Why is Minerva-san driving to Canada? You're not alone, are you?" She sounded horrified at the idea. I laughed again.

"Don't worry, mate. I just needed to clear my head. And there's a grave I need to see."

"A grave?"

"I was wondering what you're doing for the next few months."

Misa hummed. "Well . . . Misa's schedule is pretty busy. Why?"

"I've got some free time and an urge to travel. I thought you might want to come along."

"Oh! Okay. Misa will talk to her manager. She needs a holiday! This will be so much fun! Misa has always wanted to go to Milan." She sighed. "The shoes . . ."

"Call me back when you sort it out. See ya, Misa."

"Bye, Minerva-san!"

The call ended and I tossed my cell into the passenger seat. I was driving along the California coast in a bright blue convertible, bought with the money from my paintings sold at Miss Hisashi's sister's gallery. I'd pulled the top down and let wind whip through my hair. Waves crashed onto rocks far below, the thunder accompanying the roar of the engine. The sun was high in the sky, the breeze cool and salty, and I felt as though I could finally breathe.

I smiled, tasting the sea air on my lips.

The fire was out.

* * *

TOWRTA: The watch Light uses in canon is given to him by his father as a present for getting into To-Oh. Since I killed off Mr Yagami before that, it doesn't come in to play here.

This is the final chapter in V's book, and the last we hear from V's POV. Next is the epilogue. So I'm not saying goodbye just yet! It's been fun though.

Yours Truly and God bless

TOWRTA


	22. Epilogue

University has started up again, which is why this took so long. However, better late than never.

Ladies and gentlemen: I present to you the epilogue of Beautiful Chaos.

* * *

Epilogue

When Light began to read, he assumed he would gain his memories with each unfolding of the story, if he regained them at all. The first chapter went past and . . . nothing. His memory of November 28th stayed notebook free. He grew increasingly cynical of the whole exercise as he continued on, convinced that Minerva had made a mistake. Part of him worried that she was becoming delusional again. She'd been sane for over a year now and formed a new life around it. Regressing would be disastrous.

However, when he reached the point about his parents' death, the constant thought of remembering backslided and seeing through Minerva's eyes took precedence. Had he really been that distant when he moved in with the Catearros? To the point where Sayu had noticed?

The more he read, the more uneasy he felt. Minerva's story was opening up a hole in his heart and guilt poured in like cement. He'd treated her abominably.

Then came a point where his memory was a total blank – him attacking her after the second hospital trip. In the space between Quinn coming back after the phone call and L restraining him, there was nothing. According to her he'd lost himself to the murderer inside. He wanted to reject it, wanted to say that Minerva was lying. But he _knew_ her brand of insanity and this wasn't it. Here, in her words, she was entirely sane. Which meant she was telling he truth. He was Kira.

He felt like throwing the book out the window.

He felt like hiding in his room forever.

He felt like crawling to Minerva on his hands and knees and begging for forgiveness.

He kept reading.

The sun was setting when he finally got to the end, the end he couldn't remember either. For the past fourteen months it had frightened him that he didn't know what happened in that warehouse.

Minerva's description of their fight, of her promise for vengeance, of his inability to care that his sister was dead, sprang to life in his mind in surprising clarity. It wasn't a memory, only a supposition that was disturbingly realistic. It slotted in perfectly with what L had told him about the altercation.

With a heavy hand, he closed the final page of the book, breathed in. Then jerked as a thousand forgotten moments swamped his mind. He groaned and it quickly turned into a yell. Dropping the book, he clamped his head in a vice-like grip, willing the onslaught to end.

Light twitched on the bed, propped up only by the headboard.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. Deal with it, Light. Minerva dealt with insanity. You can deal with this._

 _You're only a mass murderer._

Were _a mass murderer._

"I'm not like that anymore," Light whispered. "I'm not. I've changed."

And he desperately hoped it was true, because the threat of Minerva stabbing him in the heart was more than enough motivation not to become a serial killer again.

It took a few minutes for him to reconnect all the new memories with the impressions formed in the wake of the memory loss. He had to rethink everything. Most of all, he had to shut down the bitter anger at Minerva for burning the Death Note.

"She had to," he told himself. "I was destroying her and myself."

A sly notion whispered to him that if it wasn't for her, he would have been fine. That it was just her drama and madness seeping into his consciousness.

He shook his head, replaced the book on the bedside table and stood. He needed to find Minerva. Despite everything they'd done to each other, though the fault lay more on his side, she was the most grounding presence he had. A few minutes in her company and he would know what was right and wrong again.

 _You're a genius. You don't need to be taught right from wrong._

He crushed the thought under foot. It was that sort of reasoning that had birthed Kira in the first place.

His room was on the third floor. Only two others were on this floor; Minerva and L. L's door was on the other side of the hall. Minerva's was on the other side of the house. L let slip she requested the isolation.

Light padded down the thickly carpeted hallway – something L had put in to save his bare feet from freezing in winter – and turned the corner onto the landing. The main staircase swept down to the entrance hall. Hung on the walls like signs to guide guests were Minerva's paintings. On ground floor were landscapes of the Orphanage and its grounds. First floor, where the students lived, were class portraits and scenes of them playing on the lawn. Second was of the staff and rooms within the orphanage itself.

Third floor, the images became personal. Vivid reimaginings of a boy with golden hair, a girl with a cheeky smile, a young woman with bright eyes. A hunting lodge. A group of girls chewing bubblegum, their hair in pigtails. A bronze skeleton.

Next to L's door hung an old drawing, done in a hand much less practiced than the ones downstairs.

 _Solace in Sweets._ L stared, panda-eyed, out the window. In his hand was a teacup that was overflowing with sugar cubes and candy wrappers littered the floor around his computer. Light always grinned when he passed it.

Crossing the landing, he stood in the corridor leading to Minerva's room. Sunlight spilled in from the windows along one wall, brightening the wooden panels opposite to a deep red, struck through by black lines that swirled with the grain. Minerva hung no paintings here, lest they be damaged by the sunlight.

It was a long hallway and her room was at the very end.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out._

Light took one step.

The door at the end opened.

Mello stepped out.

Both of them drew up short, a second of solidarity in disbelief.

"Mello?" Light said. His mind worked through the possibilities and came up with one logical solution. "How was church?"

Mello shrugged. "We went to the new Pentecostal church in town. V liked it."

Inwardly, Light was drowning. Reading the book had brought back the memories that it was this boy's fault Sayu was dead. He wanted to speak Mello into a corner and twist his words against himself. Force him to apologise and fall to his knees and repent.

How Minerva managed to forgive this boy, Light had no idea.

Light clenched and unclenched his fists, partially wishing he could get rid of the need for vengeance like she did, and partially wanting nothing of the sort. The Kira within him hissed that no one would miss the blonde rat.

 _"_ _If you become Kira again, I will personally drive a knife through your skull."_

Light held onto the words because they were the only things stopping him from finding Gelus' Death Note that Minerva must still have. Oh, and didn't the Kira inside him burn at that little deception.

"Do you know where she is?" asked Light, not even feigning politeness. Mello noticed and raised an eyebrow. He leaned his weight on one hip, crossed his arms and tapped his fingers in a rhythm that set Light's teeth on edge.

"Why?"

Light had to physically clasp his hands behind his back to stop from punching the belligerent little blighter in the throat.

"That's between her and I." It pained him to be so blunt but he needed this conversation to end quickly.

Mello peered at him with shrewd eyes too old in the face of a teenager. A light dawned. He tried to hide his shock, unsuccessfully.

"You got your memories back," he said. Light said nothing. Mello's fingers continued tapping out a frantic beat. He was scared. Kira preened in the shadows of Light's mind. Eventually the long silence broke by Mello admitting, "She said something about taking a walk."

Light nodded and turned on his heel. Mello was left alone in the hallway with the sharp light making his face a contrast of fear and bravado, grey and gold. Matt found him pacing his room hours later, muttering to himself about packing up again and running, this time to Russia.

Light headed back to the landing and descended. He didn't bother stopping at the second floor where the classrooms were, or the first where the students he barely talked to roamed. Ground floor consisted of the dining room, kitchen and the administrative offices. Out of a side door marked 'Wammy' in gold came L. He halted on the cold wood of the entrance hall. At a glance he knew what Mello took minutes to figure out.

"V gave you the book," he stated. It wasn't a question. Light didn't nod. The two had formed a strong working relationship. It seemed that without Kira in the equation, L trusted Light immensely. The two debated criminal personalities, crime scene inconsistencies and political agendas back and forth all day long, only breaking when food and sleep was required or they needed a dose of humanity. Usually involving Minerva.

That isn't to say they were best friends. There was always a gap between them that started and ended with the last months of 2003 and the start of 2004. Now, perhaps, it could be overcome.

There was time for that later, though. Minerva was priority.

L understood this and made the effort to gesture out the front door. "She's in the grove."

"Thanks," said Light. As he walked away, the detective left behind found himself amused. That was the first monosyllable conversation the two had ever had. It filled him with hope. Light hadn't fallen into that eloquent, Machiavellian entity of Kira. He was fighting back. L returned to Watari's office with a smile playing around his lips.

The grove was west of the House, on the outskirts of the lawn where a dozen of the younger protégés ran amok, causing havoc in ways not that different from their peers of more average intelligence. Perhaps their pranks were a bit more thought out, their arguments a little more piercing, their games more convoluted, but emotionally they were the same. A young girl hit the ground hard and scraped her palms. Two boys ran over, helped her up and led her to Trinette. Minerva's old carer smiled warmly and thanked the boys before taking the girl inside to get some bandages. The boys both trilled 'get well soon' back and darted off to play with the others.

Trinette had arrived two days after Minerva came back from her month-long holiday with Misa. Aged and no longer a jigsaw of broken pieces, the girl arrived at the House with a single suitcase, a large art bag, and a beat up corvette. She'd absorbed some of the model's brightness, her eyes shining for the first time in months. As soon as she arrived she met with Watari, set herself up in a room, and didn't leave it until Trinette was called in.

Light didn't cry when his parents died. He refused to admit he did when Minerva collapsed in the Frenchwoman's arms.

Since then it had been a long year to regain the trust Light didn't fully remember losing. It was a testament to Minerva's profound ability to forgive that she allowed him to be in the same room as her, let alone walk beside her on many rambles through the nearby village.

Speaking of rambles, where had Minerva gone on hers? On closer inspection the grove was more of a forest. The sun was setting, shafts piercing through the trees and aiming for his eyes. Squinting, Light entered the world of green and gold and brown. The trees were far apart here, tall, pale trunks that stretched into the sky. Canopies of bright emerald that flared to life in the sunlight. The sky, a blue sheet that faded into the horizon, was visible between the leaves. He wondered, as he often did, how Minerva saw this world. With her painter's eyes, did she see things differently? When she walked these paths, did her eyes linger on the way the shadows played along the ground, triple the height of the actual beech and smothering the grass and weeds and ferns that sprouted underfoot? Did she sit back and hear the dull roar of the river and its white water in the distance? Did she run her fingers along the bark, catching them on spider's webs that dug into the whorls to create a labyrinth of miniature monsters waiting for their next meal?

What did she see when she looked at him? What would she see now?

She appeared suddenly. Silent as the sunset falling behind her, she emerged from the trees. Head tilted back to peer into the heavens, her hair curled down her back. She was the same as he remembered from their first meeting. Down to the leather jacket and paint splattered jeans. Minerva Catearro. The girl who entranced him, bound him, saved him.

In her presence it was easy to push Kira away. The entity was folded away and locked in a box in the deepest part of Light's subconscious without Light needed to lift a finger. He felt his mind rid itself of the demon like a dog shaking off water and the world was brought into sharper clarity than he could remember experiencing. Light decided then and there that Minerva was more important than a creature that knew only how to destroy people's lives.

Kira died in that forest and didn't return.

"Did I ever tell you my photographic memory stopped working?" she said, still staring at the sky. She spoke English here, like her book. Aloud, her words were an accented combination of French and English and the smallest touch of Canadian.

"No."

"It was as soon as I walked out of the warehouse. I saw the car and when I looked away the numberplate was blurred in my memory." She glanced at him and a brilliant smile lit her face. Light saw his sister in that smile. "That was when I knew everything was going to be okay."

Light took a tentative step forwards. "Were you right?"

Minerva held out a hand. He tried not to walk too fast to take it. Her fingers laced easily in his, tugging him close so she was pressed into his side.

"Isn't this place beautiful?" she whispered, more to herself than him. He agreed, seeing only chestnut hair. She seemed to be steeling herself, inhaling deeply and leaning further into him with every exhale. Light couldn't complain.

At length she said, "Forgiveness is personal. Rarely does it have anything to do with the offender making amends. It's something we have to process, understand and deal with. Otherwise the pain can fester and poison everything." She muttered the last part and the memory was clear in her words. After reading her book it was easier than ever to understand just how much she knew about pain and how to grow past it.

"That's what I've been doing with Mello. Dealing with it. In the end I can't change what he did. I can't make it go away. But I can choose for it not to govern my life. So that's what I'm doing. Forgiving. Moving on. Letting go. I'm learning to forgive myself as well." _For lying to Quinn,_ went unsaid. On another day Light might have broached the subject. Today, his mind was on other things.

He could barely say the words. They caught on his throat, tugged on his tongue, refused to surface until he had to almost spit them out. "Just Mello?"

She smirked impishly. "I wonder if the trees forgive the fungi that eat their leaves."

"Minerva."

"Should I forgive the worms that are eating –"

" _Valeria_."

That shut her up. She looked up in astonishment. He took the chance and plunged in.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. It wasn't an act of swallowing his pride to say this. It was an act of pride in itself. He needed to prove to her that he wasn't Kira anymore. "I am sorry." There was nothing more to add. Everything else would detract from the sentiment and Light had been learning lately that sometimes less words make more of an impact. Instead he held her gaze and willed her to see how much he wished he could take it all back. He wished he could return Quinn to her and have loved Sayu like an older brother should. He wished most of all not to have taken advantage of every scrap of loyalty Minerva had for him.

It was an age before she moved. To Light she turned as slowly as the grass grew. Chest to chest, she read his intent. This was it. If she decided that he was still dangerous he would have nothing more to give. Heck, he'd even allow her to take his life. She'd proven enough times that her judgement was impeccable. Mostly.

Light twitched when she laid a hand upon the side of his face. Her fingers twined with hair, threading it around her knuckles. To his surprise, a mischievous grin appeared at the corners of her mouth.

"Did I ever tell you your hair looks like a kettle?"

He blinked. "What?"

Minerva nodded. "That was the first thing I thought when I saw you. Your hair looks like a seventeenth century copper kettle. I drew a comic of your head transforming into one during class that day."

Light choked on a laugh. Minerva was more successful and the tension snapped like a string. She tugged his hand and dragged him to the ground, her laughter ringing through the forest and startling deer and birds alike. He couldn't help but join in.

The hysterics died quickly and the peace of the grove surrounded them once more. Minerva hummed in contentment. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with her, Light knew he didn't want to be anywhere else.

"I forgive you, Light Yagami."

The weight Light had been carrying on his shoulders for nearly two years finally fell away. He breathed in and decided the scent of freedom was of dirt and grass and Minerva's perfume. "I'll endeavour to deserve it."

 _Though I know I never will._

.

.

THE END

* * *

TOWRTA: It's done. The wild ride of Minerva Catearro, Valerie, Valeria, V is over. It feels as though I'm losing a part of myself. Quinn, Sayu, Light and Minerva. They're walking away. I've grown so much in writing this and I have those characters to thank for being challenging and difficult and imperfect. They've taught me how to value my writing as it is and understand that you can't keep your writing locked away in a cupboard to fiddle with and try to perfect. There is no perfect. Only the now. Use it while it's here.

I want to say thank you to all my readers! Thank you to those who read from afar, those who decided this was good enough to favourite and follow, and especially those who entered into conversation with me. Especially TTY7 and az23bv. Many of you I've had chats with but these two have put up with long winded messages and terrible reply times for nearly (over?) a year now and have never failed to make me smile! Thanks for all the fun, guys! Keep in touch!

God Bless, everyone. Thanks for joining in with the ride, to readers now and to readers in the future who have stuck with this curveball of a story. I wish you the best of luck with all your endeavours.

Yours Truly (for the last time)

TOWRTA


End file.
